The Princess of Mirkwood: First Book of The Greenwood Trilogy
by Kathoran
Summary: Princess Aeyera has been smothered her whole life by her over-protective brother and father, never able to interact with others or leave the borders of their realm. But when the princess runs away from the Greenwood in search of adventure, she might find that this adventure is more dangerous than she previously thought, and that having a friend might not be such a bad thing.
1. Chapter 1

I stood and looked over the sea of scarlet and gold spread out before me. Perched upon the branches of the crest of the Greenwood, I could see nearly everything from the Misty Mountains to the lake-town of Esgaroth to the Lonely Mountain. The setting sun turned the lake gold and washed the mountain in a radiant light, making Erebor look as through it were on fire.

My father would never approve of me being outside the palace so close to dusk, but I rarely pain him heed anymore. Ever since the death of my mother several years ago, I have been very distant from my father, spending more and more of my time away from the palace.

My brother was the only one who understood a fraction of what I felt, but even he is blinded by his so-called-wisdom. My brother is centuries old, and believes that because of his age, he is wider than I. However, I doubt that he has travelled beyond the borders of the Woodland Realm. I, though being less than a quarter of a century old, am considered wiser than he in my own way. For one, I don't show off my archery skills in front of anyone of the opposite gender. For another, I don't spend two hours in the morning braiding my hair. Although I suppose that when you've lived as long as my brother has, you reserve the right to spend some time on yourself.

"Aeyera!" I stifled a groan and climbed further up until I stood above the forest, my arms outspread like an eagle's wings. I smile alighted on my lips as I imagined soaring above the mountains with nothing but open sky as far as the eye could see. "Aeyera, come at once," my brother's voice floated up to me from the ground. "Father needs you! I know you are there!"

I leaned forward into the wind, feeling my hair whip out behind me as I shut my eyes. I laughed, tossing my head back, reveling in the bliss that came with freedom, whether it be only a taste or a permanent state. As I leaned out farther, the wind died down, and my eyes snapped open as I fell forward into the canopy with a shriek. Crashing through the branches, I scrambled for a handhold as I plummeted ungracefully towards the ground.

Halfway down, I managed to snag a branch, which miraculously held under my weight. I swung my other arm up to steady myself and stayed silent, not wishing to face either my brother or the palace guards. Once my other arm was hooked around the wood, it was easy to pull myself up, and was easier still to lose my brother by tree jumping, something that I was particularly fond of. It's the closest I can come to flying.

The palace gates came into view, and moments later I landed on the path and brushed myself off, using my cloak to cover my bow and quiver of arrows. I strode up to the doors and lifted my hand to push them open.

"Princess," a familiar voice called out. I froze and winced at the tone used. "Why are you out so late, lady?"

I turned and faced the elf behind me, arranging my features in what I hoped was a look of pure innocence. "I was just on a walk," I said, looking up at the captain of the guard. "Is that wrong?" I asked, lifting my chin higher.

The auburn-haired elf smiled wryly. "You will soon know the answer when your father finds you put after sunset."

I turned my head swiftly in time to see the sun sink behind the mountains to the west. Cursing, I moved to open to door, only to find that they had been sealed for the night.

"No," I muttered. "No!" I pushed and pulled and ended up splitting my knuckles punching the doors in an attempt to open them, but to no avail. I turned to the amused she-elf behind me, who had watched my futile struggles with an amused smirk. "Tauriel," I begged, turning to her. "Please let me in."

A crash behind her caught my attention, and I shot into the trees like a hart moments before my brother fell out of the boughs above where Tauriel and I had stood. "Legolas," she said, "what are you doing here?" I crept into the golden-leafed tree above the two and watched them from my perch, irritated with the red-haired archer for not allowing me entry before my older brother could tell his tales to my father of my absence.

He looked around a moment before resting his eyes on her once again. I have noticed that he has been doing that quite a lot lately; he's not able to keep his eyes off her. "The king sent me to search for the princess, foolish elfling that she is," he said, scowling. I frowned. _Arrogant prince, _I thought.

"She is young, prince," Tauriel said, glancing up at where I perched. "I am sure you were similar to her when you were young."

"No," he said, "I was not. She is reckless and foolhardy, caring only for her own pleasure and blowing off the consequences."

I clenched my teeth in anger, eyes narrowing at the proud prince.

"It matters not," the she-elf replied, looking out at the forest. "There is peace over these lands, she has little to fear. Go inside, my lord. I will alert you of the princess's return."

He nodded wearily and walked through the doors, which Tauriel opened for him. I slipped through them as they shut, staying close to the shadows as I slunk to my room.

Minutes later I strode through the halls, gown rustling as I moved swiftly to the throne room, undoing my hair from its braid as I went. By the time I reached the throne room, I looked like the perfect princess, regal and clean and perfect. I moved quietly to my father's throne, before which my brother stood, conversing quietly with him.

"… Is reckless and disobedient," Legolas was saying, his voice low. "She has no care for the consequences of her actions, and she is lost in the woods because of this."

The king stood, and Legolas backed up, jumping when he ran into me. "Aeyera," he said, his bright eyes darkening. "How did you get here? Tauriel—"

"—Has much better things to do than searching for a lost elfling," Father finished.

I bowed, a flush creeping up my neck. "Father, I—"

"—Obviously have no regard for the consequences of your actions," he finished. I gritted my teeth. _Do they practice their speeches together in front of a mirror? _I wondered dryly.

"I—" I began again, but was once again cut off.

"You will be joining me on the journey to Erebor to see King Thror," he said, "and you shall ride with me so I can keep an eye on you."

My jaw dropped. _I got to see Erebor?! _Inwardly, I was dancing with joy, but I put up a show of anger for my father, knowing he despised the dwarfs for withholding _mithril _from him. "But Father, I—" I yelped, arranging my features in what I hoped was a look of disbelief and anger.

"You will not argue with me," he hissed. "Depart to your chambers, and do not leave the palace unless you wish to spend the next century under lock and key."

I bowed stiffly and swept out of the throne room, barely making it to my room before laughing and spinning around in the moonlight. Finally, after sixteen years, I was leaving the Greenwood.


	2. Chapter 2

I awoke early the next moment and lay in bed a moment, wondering why I had woken so quickly. A smile spread across my face as I remembered my father's words. I leapt out of bed and changed into my leggings and tunic, throwing my cloak on over them. Grabbing my weapons, I strapped my dagger to my thigh and my long knives to my back before doing the same to my quiver.

I grabbed my bow, threw the door open and promptly ran headlong into my brother who stood, arms crossed, in front of my door. He grabbed my shoulder, turned me around, and walked me back into my room, closing the door behind us.

I turned around and faced him, shrugging his hand off my shoulder. "And just what do you think you are doing?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

I frowned. "Travelling with Father to Erebor, Legolas," I retorted.

"You do realize that you are going on a journey to visit a neighboring king, not going to war?" he asked, amused.

"Yes, why?" I asked.

He pointed to my attire, and I frowned. "As a princess, you should not travel with knives, daggers, and your bow—" he raised his voice as I opened my mouth to protest. "—When going on a peaceful mission to visit another kingdom."

I pouted and crossed my arms before sitting down on my bed, irritated that he was right. "So… what?"

He strode to the door and opened it, allowing Tauriel to come into the room. I looked up in surprise. "Since she was such a help to me last night," he said, faint traces of sarcasm and amusement twisted in his voice, "I asked her to help you get ready for the journey. We depart at dawn." He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The she-elf smiled apologetically at me before passing me a silver gown, which I placed on my bed. She helped me remove my weapons, and once I was dressed in the down, she helped fix my hair the way a princess was supposed too.

"What is the real reason Legolas asked you to help me?" I asked. I was not dumb, despite what the older elves thought. Just because they are centuries older than I does not mean that I am not clever. I know that my dear brother would not ask the captain of the guard to _fix my hair _unless he needed to get a message to me, or unless she insisted on speaking to me.

Strictly speaking, "commoners" weren't really allowed to converse with the royals. Complete rubbish, I know. Probably why I have no friends here. But you know, when your father's the king, no one will risk their well being to visit a "lonely, spoiled elfling with obedience issues". Thank you, Father.

"He didn't," she responded, twisting several strands of hair together into an intricate braid. "I asked to help you."

I looked up at her reflection in the mirror, confused. "Why?"

"Because your brother worries for you, princess," she sighed, twisting the braid around my tiara. "I wish you could see how much Legolas cares for you. Despite his harsh words with you, he does love you."

I looked down at my folded hands. I suddenly felt that if I didn't speak my mind, I would burst. "It is just… Legolas always tells me what to do, he is over-protective, and he never allows me to do what I want! He treats me like a helpless child, Tauriel!"

She paused in her braiding and looked at our reflection sadly. "That is what brothers do, princess. They are over-protective, jealous, and sometimes they do tell you what to do. But all brothers have a place in their hearts for their little sisters, and Legolas is no exception. His heart is pure, my lady. He worries," she said, after a long pause.

_Legolas cares about me?_ "Why is that?" I asked.

"Well, despite the fact that you are not an infant, you are, by both our own and by mortal standards, a child. I have walked this earth for fifty and four hundred years, and you have lived barely sixteen. Legolas is centuries older than I. You are too harsh on him; he only has your best interests at heart. So when you go off into the forest alone, he fears for you. He knows that you will not be a child forever, and he wants to make it so."

"He wants me to remain a child?" I asked, confused.

"No. He wants you to make it out of childhood alive. If you continue acting rashly, chances are that you will not make it to your coming of age ceremony. He wishes only to protect you. When I was younger," she began, "I was very much like you. My parents went missing when I was very young, and my brother spent much of his young adulthood caring for me." She paused. I watched her reflection, waiting for her to go on. Her hands were still, and several unfinished braids hung about my face. "I hated that he would watch me so closely, so one day I ran away. I was very young, younger than you are now, and I did not understand that all actions have consequences. I was ambushed by a group of orcs, and I would have died on the spot had my brother not found me. He fought bravely," she whispered, bowing her head, "but he did not survive. I was hit by a stray arrow—" she lifted her shirt so that I could see the faint scar on her left hip, letting it drop as she continued her story, "And I would have died had the King not heard the sound of battle and come to see what was happening. He found me and took both my brother's body and I to the palace. I never have forgiven myself, princess. I pray that you would learn from my mistakes and not make the same ones I did."

I remained silent, processing this new information as the she-elf finished fixing my hair. "I'm very sorry, Tauriel," I whispered. "It is just that… ever since my mother passed," I said quietly, "Legolas and I… we haven't—"

"Aeyera, are you ready?" Legolas called. "We are preparing to depart."

Tauriel and I stood and faced each other, and I stood still as she straightened the tiara that had been braided into my hair. "Remember what I have said," she whispered. Opening the door, she stepped out, nodding her head once to Legolas before moving swiftly away.

"Aeyera, are you—" I cut him off with a hug, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head against his torso, which was as high as I could reach.

"I'm sorry for worrying you," I mumbled, my words muffled in his chest. He stood awkwardly for a moment before returning the hug.

"It is alright," he said, his breathing tickling the top of my head. "I simply wish for you to be safe. I am sorry that I tell you what to do so often. Your actions worry me, and I do not want something tragic to happen to you."

I felt a wave of sorrow at the implication of his words. _I want to keep you safe, since I couldn't save our mother. I couldn't bear to lose you too._


	3. Chapter 3

I rode bareback on Athelas, the descendant of the horse that once belonged to my mother. The procession, which included my father, brother, and I, moved rather slowly; it was all I could do to keep from whistling to the snow-white horse to fall into a gallop and race to the Lonely Mountain. However, Tauriel's story rang in my ears still, and I glanced over at my brother, who rode beside me. I would not endanger my brother. I could now see how my actions could have hurt him, and I had no wish for him to die, leaving me alone. My father didn't really count. He and I rarely spoke, and when he did, it was usually to scold me.

As we rode beside the river, I stared down at my reflection. The face of a matured elf looked back at me, and I sighed. Perhaps it was my appearance that made him treat me so. I was sixteen, and most elves my age had the appearance of a young mortal child; perhaps around five or six. I however looked the age of a ten or twelve year old. I matured far more quickly than the others, and I felt often that my father hated me for it, though I didn't know why.

"Aeyera."

I looked around to see that the procession had halted and that my brother had grabbed the reins of my horse to keep me from going too far ahead. I looked up to see the mountain of Erebor rising ahead of us, the sun setting behind it.

"Father, when are we to reach the mountain?" Legolas asked, letting go of my horse and straightening on his own. The king did not answer but stared straight ahead, unblinking. "Father?" Legolas repeated.

The elf-king blinked and turned to the two of us, and though his eyes were on us, his eyes were unfocused as though he were looking at something no one else could see. "We shall reach the mountain by sundown tomorrow, if we take no rest. Ride forward!"

And so we continued. I rode silently, speaking not a word to anyone, lost in my thoughts. At one point, my brother stopped me, pulling my horse over to the side where we could speak privately.

"What did Tauriel speak to you about?" he asked, watching me carefully.

I sighed, feeling much too tired for someone so young. "She spoke to me of her family," I said. "And of my recklessness." I looked over at him, feeling guilty and sad. "I am sorry for worrying you so. I should have thought of the consequences of my actions before acting on my desires."

He smiled and turned to me. "You are quite wise for one so young," he said. "And I forgive you. When I was your age, Eärendil and I would sneak off to play soldier. We would use sticks in place of swords, and pieces of bark in place of shields. Once our weapons were sharpened, which involved rubbing the bark off the sticks with a stone, we would go looking for things to hunt." He began to laugh, and I smiled, glad to see him happy. "I remember once going to hunt for an unfortunate bush and stumbling upon one with a rabbit hole under it. Eärendil wished to practice his swordsmanship on the bush, so he attacked. You should have seen his face when the bush began shaking; you would've though a warg was coming after him."

I laughed as well, ignoring the stares I received from my fellow elves. "Why have I never met Eärendil?" I asked curiously.

Legolas smiled sadly and looked at me with his deep blue eyes. He looked so sad, and I felt as though my heart were breaking. "Oh, Legolas," I stammered, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know, I thought—"

"You have nothing to be sorry for, sister," he replied softly, looking up at the constellations appearing above us. "His star stands there," he said, pointing to the brightest star in the sky, directly in front of us. "He was the son of the lady Galadriel, and she named the star after him when he passed. Men know the star as Elendil, after the mortal king, the father of Isildur. We know it as Eärendil, our most beloved star."

I looked up at the star and felt a pulling in my chest. Directly about it was a cluster of stars I had named Aeyleria, after my mother. I pointed at the cluster of lights above us, and Legolas followed my gaze. "I named them after Mother," I whispered. "I wanted to believe that she's watching over us."

He leaned over and placed his hand on my shoulder. "She is, Aeyera. Don't grieve; she is alright."

I nodded, my throat choked up. We rode in silence for a while until my father called for the procession to halt. He squinted in the darkness, looking at the cluster of lights that had appeared on the ground not two leagues from where we rode.

"What is it?" Legolas asked, urging his horse to ride next to the king's. I followed, bouncing on the horse's bare back.

"Dwarves," he spat, a look of disgust crossing his face. I never understood why he hated dwarves so much; they seemed nice enough. "Keep riding," he commanded.

When we reached the lights, we saw that they revealed a passage leading downwards, lit by torches burning in lamps of gold. A single dwarf stood in front of the cave. "Welcome, Thranduil, elf king of the Greenwood," he spoke in the common tongue, "Thror, the King Under the Mountain, welcomes you and your kin. Come," he said once we had all dismounted. "He is waiting."


	4. Chapter 4

I followed behind Father, not believing what I was seeing. Enormous jade columns held up the stone roof of the palace, and dwarves moved in all directions, bedecked in jewels. Another party of men came up next to us, revealing them to be men of Dale. Lord Girion bowed to my father, who bowed his head in return.

"It is an honor to see you again, King Thranduil," he said, rising from his bow and beckoning to a young boy who stood behind him. "This is my son and heir, Bain," he said, clapping his hand on the boy's shoulder. The boy smiled shyly at me, and I waved in return.

"This is Legolas, my son," Thranduil said slowly, beckoning him forward. Legolas bowed slightly. My father made no motion to indicate that I was remotely related to him. I may as well have been one of the dwarves scuttling around the hall. I scowled inwardly, outwardly keeping my composure. "… And heir," he added.

"Why does she have a crown, Father?" Bain whispered, looking over at me curiously. I twisted a strand of hair absently around my finger and looked up at him innocently.

My father's nostrils flared, and I pursed my lips to keep from laughing. "Ah, yes, I forgot. This is my youngest daughter, Aeyera." Oh, right. As if he had any other daughters besides me. I resisted the urge to storm off and instead curtsied to the lord and his son.

"It is an honor to meet you, Lord Girion," I murmured, raising my eyes to meet his. "Both you and your son."

He smiled, and both he and his son bowed. "And you," he said. "_Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn_."

I started in surprise. Few men knew the elven tongue well, and few knew our customs. _A star shines upon the hour of our meeting. _I nodded mutely as Legolas pulled me back behind him.

"Come along, your majesties," the dwarf guide said gruffly, though not unkindly. "King Thror awaits you."

Without waiting for a response, the dwarf turned and began ushering us into the Hall of Kings. My mouth fell open as I beheld the beautiful room before me. An enormous greenish stalactite with veins of gold connected to the king's throne, and a beautiful gem of starlight hung above the dwarf-king's head. A kind-looking dwarf with piercing blue eyes and a greying beard sat upon the throne, his hair braided with gold and his shoulders bedecked with furs. Two other dwarves stood beside him, each younger than the king himself. I guess that they were his descendants, though I had not heard their names.

The king stood and spread his arms wide, smiling brightly. "Welcome Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm. Welcome Girion, Lord of Dale. I thank you for gracing me with your presence at this time." His smile faded slightly. "I would ask that the Lord Girion, King Thranduil, and their children remain here with me while the others be led to the great hall for the feast. The others will be along shortly."

Father turned to me and tried to usher me out, but Legolas grabbed my arm, forcing me to stay where I was. My father looked up at him sharply. "This is no place for a child," he hissed. My eyes narrowed. My pride stung; I did not appreciate being referred to as a _child_—as if I were nothing.

Legolas looked back, nonplused. "Aeyera is the princess and, should anything happen to me, your heir. She will stay with me."

My father stared back at his son for a moment before turning around and bowing to Thror. "As you wish," he said, a mocking tone in his voice, which I doubt the dwarf caught.

"Excellent!" he cried, beckoning to other dwarves to bring benches forward so we could sit. As we situated ourselves, he continued. "Before we being, I would introduce my son, Thráin, and my grandson, Thorin."

I, who was still standing, bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lords," I said, my young voice a chirp to their ears.

Thráin and Thorin both smiled and both bowed to me. "It is our pleasure, princess," Thorin said, his voice deep and kind. "I would guess that you are the daughter of King Thranduil," he said, bowing to my father. I nodded. "Would you grace me with your name?"

"Aeyera, you majesty," I said softly. I smiled back at him happily, but it faded as my father gripped my arm and pulled me back to my seat.

"My Lord, you had urgent business to speak to us about?" he urged, glaring at me. I shrank down in my seat, feeling embarrassed. I was not ashamed of speaking to the prince, but of my father's actions towards me. I did not understand his anger.

"Darkness stirs in the South and the East," he said, his voice turning grim. The youngest prince, Thorin, turned towards the king gravely, his eyes dark. "Goblins have been seen roaming the mountains," the king continued, "And large spider-like creatures have been seen near Dol Guldur. This is quite near to your borders, Thranduil," he said, turning his bright eyes to my father, "Are you willing to dispatch soldier to rid this place of them?"

My father rose slowly, acutely aware of every pair of eyes on him. His piercing eyes stayed on the dwarf's, and I shifted uncomfortably at the expression in them. "I do not wish to send my kin into such a cursed place so unprotected," he said, drawing each syllable out slowly. "Perhaps if my soldiers were better equipped, we could speak of it differently."

"Perhaps," the king said, twisting one of his many rings. He frowned, and for a moment I saw a darkness hovering over him like a cloud, glittering ominously. I blinked and it was gone, but the uneasy feeling remained. "We could discuss a form of payment for you and your men. Perhaps armor or weapons?"

My father opened his mouth to speak, a greedy glint in his eyes. Before he could utter a sound, however, the young prince stepped forward and cut him off. He glanced at my father distrustfully before turning to the king.

"Rik, Ek D'gronit…" Prince Thorin bent and began speaking in his grandfather's ear, muttering in a language I did not know. I watched the king frown before lightly pushing the young dwarf aside and standing up.

"Be silent, Thorin," the king murmured. "I will speak to you later." Thror ran a hand over the golden arm of his throne, tracing patterns over the gems inlaid there. "My guests," he said, "I will discuss payment with you later, though helping your allies should not be considered a chore." My father sank back into his seat, his eyes narrowed at the now smirking prince. "Another matter is upon us. Saruman the White has called the Kings and Lords from each nation and great city to meet with the Council and discuss what to do about this growing threat."

"Saruman has ordered this?" It was Girion who spoke, standing up and placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "Since when has Saruman been concerned with what happens on our borders?" All eyes turned to the young Lord, who grew angry. "And even if he is truly sincere, what does he expect us to do? Do we leave our border and lands without a leader until we return? Rather, _if_ we return? Saruman has never shown interest in any western lands. Why would he start now?"

He sat, and the room grew quiet. I stood, shaking slightly, and laced my fingers together behind my back. All eyes turned to me. "King Thror," I said, my voice a squeak. I cleared my throat and began speaking, my confidence building with each word. I ignored the rage radiating off my father and instead focused on the dwarf lords in from of me. "King Thror, has Saruman the White ever summoned any of you before?"

The old king, now seated once again on his throne, shook his head. "No, he has not. He rarely comes to my halls, and when he does it is to ask for jewels and gold."

"What about the rest of you?" I asked, looking towards Girion and my father. Girion shook his head but remained seated.

"As I said before, Princess," he said, "Saruman has rarely shown interest to our lands unless he wants something in return."

My father stood and I took a step back. Legolas tensed next to me but did not stand. "Elfling," Thranduil said, looking down his nose at me, "You are reckless and foolish and should not have been allowed at this gathering." I glared at him as a warm flush rose on my neck. "However, you bring up a valid point. Why would the White Wizard choose now to summon us to the council he has never allowed us to attend before? Saruman has never graced my realm with his presence. Why would he start now?"

"He wouldn't," a new voice said, coming from the back of the room. Heads twisted around to see whom this new figure was, and I tilted my head in confusion as an elderly man in grey robes strode towards us. When he reached us, he stopped a swords' length away from me and bowed to Thror. "I did," he said, straightening.

It suddenly clicked. The grey robes, the twisted oaken staff, the obvious reverence the leaders in the room held for him; this must be the Grey Wizard, one of the members of the council. No one else in the room moved; it was as if they were under a spell.

"Mithrandir," I said, bowing my head.

He turned to me, a slight smile on his face. "I am glad to see that at least one of you remembers my name," he said, patting my shoulder. "Although I don't recall meeting you before."

The spell broke. "She is my daughter," father said, nudging me backwards. "What do you mean that you have summoned the council? Only Saruman has that power."

"You are incorrect, Thranduil," he said, turning away from my father. "But I did not come here to speak with you. Rather, I came to speak with Thror. The rest of you happened to be here already."

"And what is it you want, Tharkûn?" Thror asked, watching the wizard carefully. Mithrandir turned to him.

"I wish for you to spread out your wealth," he said. Divide it among the three kingdoms present, but do not hoard it call in your great halls.

The king looked sideways at his grandson, whose face was hard as stone.

"I refuse," the king said angrily. "I will not go to your meeting, Tharkûn, and I will not decimate my kingdom at the word of an old man!"

I stood dumbfounded and did not resist when my brother stood and grabbed my arm, leading me from the hall. "This is not your place, sister," he whispered. "You do not wish to be near an angered wizard." I noticed that he also was bringing Bain, the son of Girion, with us. I looked at my brother questioningly, and he shrugged. "His father asked me to take him," he said, "I—"

The wizard yelled, and I jumped, making Legolas walk faster. As I crossed the threshold, my mind when blank as a roaring filled my ears. A voice entered my head, and what seemed to me like a poem sounded, clear and bright.

"_The King beneath the mountains, _

_ The King of carven stone, _

_ The lord of silver fountains _

_ Shall come into his own!_

_ His crown shall be upholden,_

_ His harp shall be restrung,_

_ His halls shall echo golden_

_ To songs of yore re-sung._

_ The woods shall wave on mountains_

_ And grass beneath the sun; _

_ His wealth shall flow in fountains _

_ And the rivers golden run. _

_ The streams shall run in gladness, _

_ The lakes shall shine and burn, _

_ All sorrow fail and sadness _

_ At the Mountain-king's return!"_


	5. Chapter 5

Almost a decade has passed since the prophetic incident during my time in Erebor. My father rarely speaks to me, and I avoid him as often as possible. Earlier this year I passed out of childhood, and I now have the look and sights of a teenage human. A couple of the young elves nearby have begun courting, and it is nice to see someone so in love. I sighed and rested my chin on my knees. _I wonder if I will ever find love, _I thought. _It must be wonderful; finding the one you are to spend the rest of eternity with._

"Aeyera," Legolas called softly, knocking on the door of my chambers and breaking my out of my thoughts.

I started and stood, smoothing out my dress. "Come in," I called back, very glad to finally have company. I rarely see any but the palace guards and my brother, and because of this I am very lonely. _It is all right though; I don't often mind being alone_, I always would say. What a great lie that was.

My brother opened the door and shut it quietly behind him before moving to sit on my bed. I sat down next to him, and he took my hands in his. "Aeyera, something's happened," he said, not meeting my eyes. For whatever reason, despite not being a child, I was still quite short. I had to look up at him to look him in the eye. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Legolas?" I asked, scared. "What has happened?"

"A dragon," he said, finally meeting my eye. "A dragon has attacked Erebor."

I sat frozen, thinking back to the young prince I had met so long ago, how kind he was to me. And the king, Thror; he looked so happy, surrounded by his family. The though of these kind people being slaughtered and burned made me both angry and sick. I leaped up and grabbed my bow and quiver, headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" My brother called, rising.

I turned back to him, blood pounding in my ears. "I cannot leave these people to this fate," I said, one hand resting on the handle of the door. "They need someone to help them."

"Father has already left with an army," Legolas said, spreading his hands in supplication. "One elfling will not make a difference in the turn of a battle."

"_Father _went to the aid of the dwarves?" I said, dumbstruck. "Since when has he cared for the fortune or misfortune of others? He has acted like a coward these past years, sitting in his halls and not caring for any people besides his own."

"Aeyera," my brother snapped angrily, "Do not speak about our father like that. He cares for us; and yes; if going to help someone does not benefit us, he would not do it, but that does not make him a coward!"

I did not reply but instead opened my door and bolted down the hall, ignoring my brother's shouts. I reached the stables, where Athelas stood, waiting impatiently for her rider. "Prepare my horse," I said to the stable boy, "Quickly!"

I rushed to the closet and grabbed my pack, which already held my knives along with provisions and water. I leapt onto the horse and urged the mare into a gallop. She flew out the door, which the young elf had wisely opened already, and I steered her along the river towards the Lonely Mountain. I couldn't see it yet because of the trees, but I knew it was there.

Because of the speed at which I was travelling, I was within view of Erebor in roughly an hour. I was keeping my gaze in my horse's mane, but I glanced up for a moment and nearly fell off the horse's back.

The mountain was on fire.

A great red beast was clawing its way into the mountain, and my horse sprang into a gallop once more, hurtling towards the mountain.

A great elven host marched towards the mountain, and within another hour reached them. I went around the border of the army, ignoring the startled looks from my father's soldiers.

"_Ada_!" I yelled, riding up to where he sat still on a great hart, overlooking the desolation of the dragon but doing nothing. What is he doing?! "_Ada, __man ceril?__"_

"I will not go down and fight the dragon," he said, looking down at the dying people below us.

I looked at him in shock, unable to move. How could he be so cowardly? Anger filled my veins, and before I knew it, I was yelling at the king, something I never would have done otherwise. Basically, I yelled that he was a fool and should flee. "_Heca! Pe-channas!_" He did not respond but turned on his deer, leading the army away. "Coward!" I screamed. I could hear the shouts of the young prince below, calling for help. I turned and tried to ride down to him, but a strong pain of arms grabbed me and pulled me off my horse and onto another. I yelled and struggled against the strong hold of the elf warrior, and for a moment, the despairing eyes of the young prince met mine. I opened my mouth, grieving, and a tear fell down my cheek. "_Ánin apsenë," _I whispered._ Forgive me._

He stared at me, hurt and anguish evident in his gaze. I knew with freezing certainty that he wouldn't forget my face, and I shuddered to think that he would be angry with me should we meet again.

After nearly an hour, the soldier spoke up. "Aeyera," said my brother's voice in my ear, "You were a fool to speak out against our father."

"He is no father of mine," I spat. I pulled myself free of his grip and whistled to his mount, bringing it to a halt. I climbed off and pulled myself onto my horse, which had obediently followed me. "I will not return with you, _gieran,_" I said sadly, looking up at my brother. "I must find my own way."

He gazed at me sadly. "Is there no way to change your mind, _kieran_?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I refuse to live in the house with one who would not give aid to those who need him."

He sighed. "Take this," he said, pulling a ring from his finger and passing it to me. "To remember us by." I looked up at him as I placed it on my finger and reached over, embracing him.

"Thank you, Legolas. I will see you again someday," I said.

"Where will you go?" he asked as we urged our horses forward.

"I don't know," I said, looking over at the mountains behind the Greenwood. "Maybe I will find a new land to save," I smiled.

"Good luck, princess," my brother said, bowing his head to me. We rode in silence for hours with much to say but no way to say it. At the edge of the forest we separated. With one last look, I rode off to the North of Mirkwood. I did not know it then, but it would be nearly two centuries before I would speak to my brother again.


	6. Chapter 6

One hundred and seventy one years later, I stood overlooking a land called the Shire. Much had happened in my years spent away from home. I travelled with a group of rangers until a year or so ago; they are a wise folk, somber and grave, but loyal and fierce all the same. They are descended from the kings of Gondor who lived long before even my brother was born.

I banished the thought of my brother from my head, which is what I had been doing for the last century or so. It is all I can do to keep from going home to see Legolas again, but I know that my father waits there with him, so I stay away.

In all my time with the rangers, there was only one who I truly befriended. He went by the name of Arathorn, and we fought together for many years. But as all good things do, our time together ended. All the rangers I once knew, except for Arathorn and a few others, have passed on. Even he went away, for his wife bore him a son, whose form seems to gleam with a reverent light whether in light or darkness. This boy was christened Aragorn, and now looks older than I, though I remain two centuries his elder.

This reminds me; I haven't yet grown into a mature elf, look-wise. I still look like a fifty year-old elf, even though I am four times that age. Some elves could tell me about my problem, but the wisest elf was Lord Elrond, who coincidentally has been absent both times I have been to Rivendell.

He and a few others were the only elves to know of the Hobbit folk. I had stumbled across them quite by accident, and was eager to see them better. Despite my age I had never been here before, and the sight took my breath away. The rolling hills were blanketed in bright green grass, and small homes were dug into the hillsides. The Halflings moved here and there, pulling their animals along with them or farming their land. My horse Athelas passed on many years ago, but I now cared for a strong stallion by the name of Gwairoch, named after the legendary elven steeds of old. He currently stood next to me, nuzzling the ground for something to eat.

Despite the shadow than now hung over the lands to the West, no darkness lay here. To most men, the Hobbit folk were the stuff of myth and legend; elves were the only ones who acknowledged their existence, but not even I had heard of them until a month ago in Bree.

"A fine day, don't you think?" A deep voice asked, interrupting my thoughts. I turned my head, not allowing my drawn hood to reveal my pointed ears and long hair.

"Yes," I answered, taking a deep breath, "Beautiful."

"If you don't mind me asking," the old man commented lightly, sliding of his horse and moving to stand next to me, "What is the princess of the Greenwood doing in the Shire?"

I froze and snuck a glance at the man from behind my hood. He was old; clad in grey robes with a blue hat adorning his head. His bright eyes were on me, and his long beard trembled with concealed mirth.

"Mithrandir!" I exclaimed, leaping forward and hugging the old wizard tightly. He laughed jovially and patted my back before pulling away.

"It had been a long time, my dear," he said, smiling. His smile faded slightly as he took in my young features. "Nearly two hundred years have passed since our last meeting, haven't they?"

I nodded and stepped back to pull my horse away from a hobbit's rather unfortunate rose bush. "Yes… it's been a long time."

"And yet still you look like an elf who has barely come of age."

I gritted my teeth. As if I wanted to be reminded that I was different. That I looked to be a seventeen year-old girl instead of a fully mature elf.

"I have visited your father several times over the years, Aeyera," the wizard said, "And your brother has asked me quite frequently if there has been any word from you. I have had to disappoint him far too many times for my liking." His voice took on a sharper tone, and I could feel him glaring at me. I had turned away by now and had moved my gaze back to the Shire. It had not lost its beauty, but I felt somewhat detached now, as if its beauty wasn't for me. "Your family misses you, princess," he said softly.

"What family?" I asked, low voice churning with the anger I had tried for two hundred years to hold back. "My brother is my family, and he let me go. I am grateful that he did, and I am glad to hear he is safe. My mother died when I was a young elfling. My father died with my mother. An elf king I do not know sits on the throne of Mirkwood, and I owe nothing to him." I all but spat out the speech, and the wizard stood, seemingly speechless.

"Why haven't you aged?" the old man asked, effectively changing the subject.

I sighed. I had wondered that for seventeen decades and had never received an answer, and I asked the same question every day about my height. I stood at roughly five and a half feet tall, give or take a few inches, and I remained shorter than any other elf by at least a foot. "I don't know," I said wearily, turning from the Shire. It had lost its charm, and the mountains near Imladris now called to me. I pulled myself onto my horse and turned him towards the West.

"And where do you think you're going?" the wizard called after me, somewhat amused.

"The Misty Mountains," I replied, not bothering to look back.

"Do not walk away from me, elfling," he said, his voice taking on a much more sinister tone. I leapt off the horse and turned to face him, furious. "Why do you continue to wander the wild?" he asked. "To never stay in one place? Most elves your age have found their mate; why haven't you?"

I stepped back, hurt, and felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "Well it's not as if I have a home! It's not as if I have something I was meant to do, like Legolas, or Tauriel! I'm not a warrior, or one who has a trade!" I all but shouted at him. Turning my grief into anger was something I was good at by now. "My family doesn't care about me! I have nowhere to go! No elf wants a bride who looks like, like _this_!" At this point, my voice was closer to a shriek than it had ever been as I gestured to myself, indicating my young looks, height, and… me-ness.

"My young elf," the old man said, not unkindly, bending down to meet my eye. "What ever happened to the small child who wanted nothing more than to please her father and to play with her brother, shooting her bow and climbing in the treetops?"

"I don't know," I said, shaking my dark curly hair back and pulling it over my shoulder. "She got lost, I guess."

He smiled gently and placed a gnarled hand on my shoulder. "Then I think it's time she's found." I looked at him questioningly. "How would you like to go on an adventure?"

"An adventure?" I repeated, moving out of the way for a young hobbit chasing after a butterfly.

"Yes," he said. "You need to do something with your life, princess, and like it or not, an adventure would be good for you."

"I don't know, Mithrandir," I said hesitantly, "I don't…"

"You yelled at me quite recently that you wanted a purpose, did you not?" he asked, ignoring the way I flushed. "And now I offer you one. I believe you were one of the few elves to try and help the dwarves of Erebor, were you not?"

My head shot up. "How did you—?"

"It does not matter how I know," he replied sharply. "But only that I know it."

"What kind of adventure?" I asked, weary of this conversation, which was by far the longest one I had held in several decades. The rangers tended to keep to themselves, even on merry nights.

His answer shocked me.

"One that will allow the King Under the Mountain to take back Erebor."


	7. Chapter 7

I stood, shocked, and stared at the elderly wizard as if I expected him to laugh and tell me he was jesting. I had no such luck. "The king… the King Under the… the Mountain…" I muttered, dazed. I held a hand to my head to keep it from spinning. It had been centuries since I heard that title, and it sounded foreign on my tongue although the words were once as natural to me as the sun in the sky and the grass on the ground.

"I know it may come as a shock to you to hear of this after so long," the old man said kindly, "but it is time. The King must reclaim his his home."

The prophecy—for I now am certain of what it was—echoed in my mind. _The lord of silver fountains…_

"Mithrandir," I managed, pinching the bridge of my nose, "How can this be? Surely the line of Durin ended long before we met today."

"And so many have been led to believe. However, you know the truth, princess," he said, a gleam in his eye. "You saw the prince escape the mountain that day."

A memory flashed in my mind, brief but so real it was as if I were living it again.

_I looked at my father in shock, unable to move. How could he be so cowardly as to doom an entire race to this fate? Anger filled my veins, and before I knew it, I was yelling at the king, something I never would have done if I had been in my right mind. In short, I yelled that he was a fool and should flee like the coward he was. "Heca! Pe-channas!" He did not respond but turned his stag from the mountain, leading the army away. "You coward!" I screamed. I could hear the shouts of the young prince below, calling for help. _

_ Smoke filled the air, and I gagged on the stench of burned flesh that filed the air. I turned towards Erebor and tried to ride down to the aid of the dwarves, but a strong pain of arms grabbed me and lifted me off my horse and onto another before I could start the descent into the ravine. I shrieked in panic and tried to break free, but the arms held me fast. I yelled and struggled against the strong hold of the elf warrior, and for a moment, the despairing blue eyes of the young prince met mine. I opened my mouth, grieving, and a tear fell down my cheek at the sight of such a strong warrior brought so low. "Ánin apsenë," I whispered, closing my eyes. Forgive me._

_ He stared at me, hurt and anguish evident in his gaze. I knew with freezing certainty that he wouldn't forget my face, and I shuddered to think that he would be angry with me should we meet again._

"You want me to help the grandson of Thror reclaim his throne," I clarified slowly, processing the information.

"Yes," the wizard said. "And I believe that you are the only elf he would allow to help him do so."

"And why is that, Mithrandir?" I asked wearily, stroking the inky black mane of my horse as it nuzzled against me.

"Because you are the one elf in Middle Earth who tried to help him," the man replied. I remained silent. There was not guarantee that the prince would remember me, and even if he did, he would not likely trust me simply because of my lineage. Who would ask for or want the aid of their enemy's child?

"Can you guarantee that he'll remember me, wizard?" I asked, looking up at him again. "That he'll accept my help?"

"No," he said. "I cannot. However, my presence in the room may be enough to convince him that you are on his side. That is, if you can keep that temper of yours in check."

"I do not have a temper!" I all but yelled. I flushed, knowing what he meant.

"As I said before," Mithrandir said, amused, "Keep your temper in check, and we may be able to convince our prince to bring you along."

"And if we can't convince him?" I pushed, curious as to how the wizard would convince a dwarf to allow an elf princess on his quest.

He peered at me from under his hat, his mouth quirked in a smile. "Then you'll come anyway," he said, as if the answer were blatantly obvious.

I stood outside a green hobbit hold that night, cursing wizards and dwarves and elf kings in the same breath. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, doing my best to calm my nerves. Before I could talk myself out of it, I knocked on the door three times, all the while staring down at Gandalf's mark on the door. For Gandalf was Mithrandir's name in the common tongue; I figured I might as well use it while I travelled with him.

A very disgruntled hobbit answered the door, looking startled to see me. I bowed, bringing my cloak around behind me. "Aeyera of the Greenwood," I said, straightening and brushing a loose strand of hair out of my face, "At your service."

The shocked dwarf bowed back, taking in my ears and bright eyes as he did so. "Bilbo Baggins, at yours," he said, pausing several times as he spoke.

"Is… is Mith—is Gandalf here?" I asked, nervous. He nodded, the irritated look returning. "May I come in and see him?" I questioned softly. The hobbit nodded again and moved out of my way so I could enter his home. He shut the door behind me, although I could barely hear it over my pounding heart.

A feast seemed to be going on in the next room, and the Grey Wizard appeared in one of the doorways, beaming. "Ah, Aeyera," he said, his voice low as of to not alert the others I was here. "I'm glad you could make it."

Bilbo was muttering under his breath, furious.

"My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?" the wizard said, smirking.

"What's the matter?" the stunned hobbit repeated angrily. I looked around, tuning out the rest of the pair's conversation. I did not wish to intrude. "I don't understand what they're doing in my house!"

I turned my head to stare at the old magician before trying to look behind him at the room hidden behind his back. "Who else is here, Mithrandir?" I asked, looking back at the wizard. "I thought it was you and I and the prince, as well as Mr. Baggins here."

"Not exactly," he began.

"S'cuse me," a young voice came from behind Gandalf, and the wizard grabbed my hood and yanked it up, covering my head before turning to the dwarf behind him. The exasperated hobbit turned to face him as well, and I shrunk back into the shadows. "I'm sorry to interrupt," the young dwarf said, holding his plate carefully, "But what should I do with my plate?"

A golden-haired dwarf strode in from a side hall, making me jump at his sudden appearance. "Here you go, Ori, give it to me," he said, taking the plate from the shorter dwarf. Without a second's delay, he threw the plate, causing the wizard and I to scramble out of the way to avoid it.

Another dwarf, dark, taller than most others I'd seen, caught it and threw it behind him. A moment later, he caught another pottery projectile, sending it on its way in a second. I couldn't help but take a second glance art this young dwarf. His dark hair was partially pulled back, but strands of hair framed his young face. He didn't have a long beard like most dwarves; rather, he had a short, scruffy beard that was rather cute. Please tell me I didn't just think that.

I turned to speak to the wizard, only to find that he had gone. I began to panic and search though the house as the dwarves began singing, stomping their feet in time to the music. I resisted the urge to dance, something I used to love to do, and instead continued my search, avoiding the majority of the dwarves.

I finally found the wizard at a table in a cramped room with the majority of others, where plates still flew through the air. I moved to stand beside the laughing wizard, a smile forming on my face as well.

"… That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" they finished, laughing jovially at the hobbit's bewildered expression upon seeing the pile of clean and un-smashed dishes on the table. Gandalf sat down, still laughing, but the smiles on every face disappeared at the sound of a fist banging on the hobbit's door. Once, twice, thrice it sounded, and then there was silence.

Mithrandir turned to the dwarves, who stood as if frozen. "He is here," he whispered hoarsely. A chill came over me. The young prince—would he remember me? I could not decide whether I wanted him to remember my face or not.

The wizard and the other dwarves moved to open the door, where Thror's grandson stood. I moved with them but stood in the back where I was least likely to be noticed. He looked up, his face expressionless. "Gandalf," he said calmly. I felt as though I had been punched in the gut. He looked almost exactly how I remembered him, but his eyes carried sorrow and anger he did not have when first we met. A ghost of a smile crossed his face as he stepped inside. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice," he said casually. I have never wanted anything more than to disappear.

I met Gandalf's eye from under the hood, and he shook his head minutely at me, telling me not to go anywhere. Easy for him to say. He didn't have a three hundred year-old dwarf prince seeking revenge for the slaughter of his people who remembered his face from the day the dragon attacked—the face that didn't help him. "I wouldn't have found it at all if it hadn't been for that mark on the door," he continued, taking of his cloak.

"Mark? There's no mark on that door, it was painted a week ago!" claimed Mr. Baggins, hurrying to his door as Gandalf pushed it shut.

"There is a mark," the wizard corrected, turning so his back was against the door, "I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield."

"So," Thorin said, stepping closer to Bilbo with a shadow of an amused smirk plastered on his face. "This is the hobbit. Tell me Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?" the prince asked, circling the confused hobbit.

"Pardon me?" he asked, frowning.

"How's your sword?" the dwarf asked gruffly, coming to a halt. "What's your weapon of choice?"

"Well, I have some skill at conkers, if you must know," the hobbit said proudly, putting his hands on his hips. I wanted to melt into the stone out of embarrassment for him. A confused expression crossed his face as he backtracked. "But I fail to see how that's relevant."

"Thought as much," the prince said, turning his head to face the young, dark haired dwarf from earlier. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

The other dwarves chuckled, and I frowned. I had never appreciated when jokes were made at others' expense, and now was not an exception.

"Shall we make to the dining room?" An elderly dwarf with a long, white beard asked. "You must be hungry after such a long journey."

Thorin opened his mouth to respond, but Gandalf stepped up before he could speak. "Before you go," he said, glancing discretely at me, "There is one other member of your company I would like you to meet." Several pairs of curious eyes travelled to my hooded form, and ice began forming in my stomach. "Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf said, striding over to my frozen form and casting off my hood. "I would like you to meet Aeyera Greenleaf, Princess of the Greenwood."

I stared, completely immobilized, at the dwarf prince who stared back at me, just as much shock in his eyes as in mine. He quickly overcame his shock, however, and anger became the main emotion zeroed back at me. I felt like melting into the shadows or hiding in a hole in the ground, but instead I stood tall, making my face a mask.

I bowed. "It has been a long time, prince," I said before rising. "You have changed little."

He narrowed his eyes at me, and I became acutely aware of the fourteen other pairs of eyes on me. "Should that name mean something to me?" he asked angrily. "Your name I do not know, but I do know your face. You're the coward who ran away from the mountain instead of helping both I and my people. Tell me, Gandalf," he said, turning to the wizard, "Why this girl is here."

"Has it been so long that you do not recognize my face?" I asked calmly, feeling a strange sense of detachment. "Has it been so long since I visited your halls that you do not know me?"

A flicker of recognition crossed his face. "You are the daughter of Thranduil," he said slowly. "The one who addressed me directly. The one whose father scolded for not holding her tongue in the presence of the Kings of the West." The last part was completely unnecessary, and I felt a wave of resentment rise within me. "I see you still have not learned your lesson," he added. The dam holding back my anger creaked and groaned, and the arrogant prince was saved by Gandalf, who swooped in and led Thorin away, leaving me to stand, shaking with anger, in the midst of twelve dwarves who—if they were anything like their leader—wanted nothing to do with me.


	8. Chapter 8

I stood, fuming silently, for about five seconds before I realized my current predicament. I cleared my throat and crossed my arms, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. I don't think I had ever wanted to be anything other than an elf before that moment, but now I couldn't help but wish that I had been a dwarf, or a woman, or even a hobbit. Anything to keep these dwarves form staring at me so.

The oldest dwarf stepped forward, crossing his arms over his long white beard. "Princess," he said, giving me a small bow, "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Balin," he added, smiling.

I managed a smile and curtsied. "It is truly a pleasure, master dwarf," I said, "but I do not carry the title of princess. It has been nearly two centuries since last I stepped foot in the Greenwood, and the elf on the throne is anything but my father."

The old dwarf looked momentary stunned but managed to recover fairly quickly. He leaned in to me, lowering his voice. "No one can lose her title, my lady," he said softly. "Thorin's living proof. He is a king without a kingdom, a prince without a people. However, he does not cease to be that which he was born to be."

"I did not lose my title," I answered, my voice soft and clear. "I gave it up. I refused to be apart of the family of someone who would abandon a people to fire."

A look of remembrance crossed his face. "You were the elf warrior who tried to ride to our air," he said, looking awed. Gandalf chose that moment to poke his head around the doorframe and give us a smoldering glare.

"Are you finished?" he asked, winking at me briefly to let me now he wasn't angry with me. The other dwarves nodded and marched back to the small room with the table, many sparing me a glance as they passed.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin was asking as I snuck quietly into the room, making little more noise than a mouse. "Did they all come?"

I knew they did; I helped the rangers guard them, staying out of sight but always within earshot of the dwarf lords. Thorin put down his spoon, grave.

"Aye," Thorin said. "Envoys of all seven kingdoms." The dwarves murmured and laughed among themselves, excited at the prospect of help from the other dwarves.

"And what do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" the tattooed dwarf asked, grinning. "Is Dain with us?"

"They will not come." The dwarf looked down to conceal his disappointment, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. "They say this quest is ours, and ours alone." Privately I agreed with King Dain; although I myself wished to help these dwarves, I wouldn't risk my people to the wrath of a dragon. I ignored the thought that my father had done exactly that and forced myself to listen.

"You're going on a quest?" Bilbo piped up, looking interested.

Gandalf jerked as though he had been asleep and turned to the Halfling, saying, "Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light." Bilbo nodded and turned, leaving the room. Gandalf lowered his voice as Bilbo brought a candle to the table, and spread out a map which has been in his pocket. "Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak." His finger rested on an inked in drawing of a mountain, and I moved closer to Thorin's chair out of curiosity. The dark haired dwarf from before looked at me questioningly but said nothing; many of the others gave me distrustful glares, which I ignored.

"The Lonely Mountain," Bilbo read slowly.

"Aye," A red-haired dwarf said. "Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time!"

Another dwarf, whom I assumed to be Oin, continued. "Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold: When the birds of old return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end."

Bilbo, upon hearing "the beast," looked concerned. "What beast?" He asked, frightened.

One of the younger dwarves answered him. "Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meathooks, extremely fond of precious metals."

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," Bilbo said, annoyed and frightened.

The youngest dwarf stood up. "I'm not afraid! I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of the Dwarvish iron right up his jacksy!"

His brother grabbed him and pulled him back into his chair while the others laughed. "Sit down!"

Balin continued as if nothing had happened, his voice earnest. "The task will be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen. Not thirteen of the best, nor brightest." He muttered this last bit under his breath, but somehow every dwarf heard it and became offended, shouting at the old dwarf.

"Who are you calling dim?" One yelled.

"Watch it!"

"No!"

"We may be few in number," the golden-haired dwarf said, "but we're fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!"

His brother butted in, grinning like a maniac. "And you forget, we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time."

I raised my eyebrows and looked over at the wizard, who held up his hands in polite protest. "Oh, well, now, I wouldn't say—"

"How many, then?" I covered my mouth with my hand to cover my smile and saw Thorin turn to the wizard, smirking.

Gandalf started. "I, uh, what?"

"How many dragons have you killed?" The same dwarf asked. Gandalf began choking on his smoke, at which point the dwarf shouted, "Go on, give us a number!" Gandalf embarrassedly coughed on his pipe smoke; the dwarves jumped to their feet, arguing about the number of dragons Gandalf had killed. Thorin jumped up in anger and bellowed, "Atkât!" Which silenced the rest.

"If we have read these signs, do you not think that others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!" He shouted, rallying the dwarves. All the dwarves cheered, and I waited for someone to point out to the prince the glaringly obvious problem he faced.

Balin was the one to do it. "You forget: the front door is sealed. There is no way into the mountain," he said regretfully.

The old man smirked and leaded forward. "That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." Twiddling his fingers, Gandalf produced a dwarvish key seemingly from nowhere, ornately wrought. Thorin gazed at it in awe.

Thorin stared at it as if afraid it would vanish into smoke. "How came you by this?"

"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now." Gandalf handed the key to Thorin as everyone looked on in wonder.

"If there is a key, there must be a door," the blond dwarf said. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the stupidity of the statement but decided to let it slide anyway, watching as Gandalf pointed at runes on his map with his pipe.

"These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls," Gandalf said. "There's another way in," the dark haired dwarf said, smiling joyfully.

"If we can find it," Gandalf replied. "Dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done."

"That's why we need a burglar," a dwarf said, putting the pieces together. If only someone would ask why they needed an elf; I would be glad to know that information.

"And a good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine," Bilbo said absently, studying the map.

"And are you?" The red-haired dwarf asked testily.

Bilbo looked up from the map, unaware that he was being spoken to. "Am I what?"

The dwarf with the ear trumpet exclaimed, "He said he's an expert! Hey hey!" The other dwarves cheered, and I forced myself to keep quiet. How thick headed could these dwarves get?

"Me? No, no, no. I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen a thing in my life," Bilbo protested.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He's hardly burglar material," Balin replied, to which Bilbo nodded in agreement.

Balin's brother continued. "Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves." Bilbo continued nodding in agreement and the dwarves began arguing.

Gandalf, growing angry, rose to his full height and cast darkness over the group. Everyone shrunk back, including me, shocked at the powerful tone he used. The others froze in awe. "Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is." Gandalf returned to his normal self as the light returned to the room. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this."

"And what of the elf?" Thorin asked, nodding at me with his head.

"Aeyera, besides being a skilled huntress and archer, has travelled with the rangers these past few decades. How long exactly have you been with them, princess?" He asked.

I clenched my jaw but ignored the title, thinking. "Hm… I met with Arathorn a decade after…" I froze, but quickly continued when no one noticed my slip up. "Uh, so… a hundred and fifty years? Give or take a few?"

Gandalf frowned but said nothing about the twenty-year gap I had forgotten to mention. I rolled my shoulder, wincing as the scars marring my skin stretched uncomfortably. The rangers were the ones who healed me. The ones who found me and kept me alive after I foolishly tried to track down a spider that had attacked my campsite on my way back to Erebor. The arachnid led me to Dol Guldur, where—where unspeakable things happened to me. I shuddered and looked down, blocking out the shadows of madness hovering at the edge of my mind.

"Yes," Gandalf said, his tone making it clear to me that he would be cornering me for answers later. "Because of this, she has great knowledge of healing, particularly with the Athelas plant."

"Athelas?" Oin repeated. "It's a weed."

"Not in the hands of the rangers," I replied quietly, "Or in mine."

Thorin glowered at the table before answering the wizard. "Very well. We'll do it your way. Give them the contract," Thorin said.

"Alright, we're off!" One of the dwarves exclaimed. Bilbo began objecting to Thorin and Gandalf, but they ignored him.

Balin handed Bilbo a long contract, which Bilbo took hesitantly as the old dwarf explained the contents. "It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

"Funeral arrangements?" As Bilbo stepped back a few feet to read the contract, Thorin leaned toward Gandalf and whispered to him, clearly not intending for anyone else to hear. My sharp ears caught his words, however, and my blood froze at his words.

"I cannot guarantee his safety," Thorin said.

"Understood."

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate."

Gandalf looked startled, but said, "Agreed."

Bilbo began reading parts of the contract out loud, and I listened in, declining my own copy. "I do not wish for a reward in treasure, master Balin," I said, catching the old dwarf by surprise.

"Then what do you want, lassie?" He asked. I looked up into the eyes of Thorin, who watched my intently.

"To make things right," I answered softly. He looked away.

"'Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any.' Hmm. Seems fair," The hobbit commented, pacing around and unfolding hidden compartments in his letter. "'The present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations... Evisceration?… Incineration?" Bilbo asked, looking over at the dwarves.

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off yer bones in the blink of an eye," one of the dwarves helpfully replied. I closed my eyes in exasperation.

"Huh," Bilbo said.

"You alright there laddie?" Balin asked kindly.

Bilbo, who was by now bent over with his hands on his knees, was in my opinion being a bit overdramatic. "I feel a bit faint."

The same dwarf from before stood, leaning against the doorframe. "Think furnace with wings."

Bilbo let out quick puffs of air, terrified. "Air, I-I-I-I need air."

"Flash of light, searing pain, then Poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash!" The dwarf continued. I resisted the urge to smack the clueless dwarf upside the head and instead watched the hobbit to make sure he didn't keel over. Bilbo breathed heavily, trying to compose himself as the others stared at him.

He stood up for a moment, looking better. "No." Bilbo collapsed neatly on the floor in a faint, and I giggled a bit, smothering the sound with my hand and not sure why I was laughing.

"You're very helpful, Bofur," he said to the dwarf whom I assumed was named Bofur.

A bit later Bilbo was seated comfortably in his chair, holding a mug and talking to Gandalf. I stood silently in the corner, watching. I'll be alright," Bilbo was saying, "Just let me sit quietly for a moment."

Gandalf replied angrily, "You've been sitting quietly for far too long. Tell me; when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you? I remember a young Hobbit who always was running off in search of elves and the woods, who would stay out late, and come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. The world is not in your books and maps; it's out there." He pointed to the window, where the Shire lay cloaked in shadow under the starlight.

"I can't just go running off into the blue. I am a Baggins, of Bag End," Bilbo said, trying his best to convince the wizard.

"You are also a Took!" The wizard exclaimed. "Did you know that your great-great-great-great-uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?" I glanced over at a portrait of Bullroarer Took on Bilbo's wall; the hobbit held a large club over his shoulder.

"Yes—"

"Well he could!" The wizard said loudly. "In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard it knocked the Goblin King's head clean off, and it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle was won, and the game of golf invented at the same time." I smirked, amused.

Bilbo frowned bemusedly. "I do believe you made that up."

Gandalf smiled and strode back to Bilbo. "Well, all good stories deserve embellishment. You'll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back."

Bilbo smiled slightly, the prospect of an adventure warming up to him. "Can you promise that I will come back?"

The wizard looked sideways at the Halfling. "No. And if you do, you will not be the same."

"That's what I thought. Sorry, Gandalf, I can't sign this. You've got the wrong Hobbit." Bilbo stood and walked away down the hall, leaving Gandalf alone. The wizard sighed, weary, and turned to me.

"What happened to you in the years before you encountered the rangers?" he asked, sitting in one of the hobbit's larger chairs. I took a seat in the one Bilbo has recently occupied, crossing my arms.

"I don't like to speak of it, Mithrandir," I whispered, gazing into the fire. The voices of madness rose, the clamor becoming more pronounced.

"You tried to go back to Erebor," he said, gazing intently at me. I nodded, closing my eyes shut. "Something stopped you."

"A monster," I whispered hoarsely. "A giant spider attacked my camp. I followed it, and it led me to Dol Guldur. It was not empty," I said, my voice catching. I pulled up my shirt so that my back was exposed and turned so that my back faced the wizard. He said nothing, and the silence was so thick that it could have been cut with a knife. I turned, pulling my top down to cover the scars that twisted around my back, arms, and legs. The worst was the mottled, angry red wound on my side, where I had been pierced with a Morgul blade. I had struggled against its magic for decades, and this year was no exception. It usually was worst on the anniversary of the day it had pierced me, which for me was several months from now. The old man sat, frozen, staring at me with horror and pity.

"This is what happened in the twenty years I was gone," I said, my voice broken. "This is why the rangers found me, why they helped me."

He did not answer, and we sat in silence together. A wizard and a broken elf, not knowing what to say to one another to heal the wounds that could not be seen, but could only be felt.

I stood eventually and moved to the edge of Bilbo's living room, where the rest of the dwarves were gathered, smoking their pipes by the fire. They all began humming, and soon Thorin began to sing, and the others joined him. A magic formed in the air, older than I was. As the words began to take shape in my mind, I turned my face away.

"Far over the Misty Mountains cold,

To dungeons deep and caverns old.

We must away ere break of day

To find our long-forgotten gold.

The pines were roaring on the height;

The winds were moaning in the night.

The fire was red, it flaming spread;

The trees like torches blazed with light."

I stared at the fire, which crackled ominously, and raised my eyes to meet the burning gaze of the dwarf prince who glared back at me.


	9. Chapter 9

After the dwarves' song, I went outside and stood on top of Mr. Baggins's hobbit hole, looking out over the Shire. The moonlight made the lake shine like silver, and all shadows were a deep blue like the purest sapphire. I twisted my ring absently and sighed. It had been too long; too long since I had walked beneath the eaves of the Greenwood. Too long since I had seen my brother. I stood and made my way down the hill, walking in silence and in starlight, blending the world of dreams with the one of reality. I had perfected this over the years, and I very rarely had any need for sleep anymore. That was good, since whenever I did sleep, I was plagued by nightmares. I stroked the mane of my horse and leaned against his flank as I looked inside the hobbit-hole. The dwarves were either sleeping or cleaning up; many were spread on the floor or on chairs by the dying fire.

I closed my eyes and turned my head up to the stars, reveling in their light. Opening my eyes, I caught sight of a constellation I had not seen in a very long time. A ghost of a smile played on my lips. "_Ali sanar,__Desh'mieve__. Er ari i barith taur kanuva mi an ly._"

_I miss your light, Mother. One day the seas of chance might lead me to you._

"What are you saying?" I turned my head to see the blonde dwarf standing in the doorway looking out at me. I was impressed; not many people could sneak up on me.

I turned back to the stars but gestured him to come forward, which he did willingly. We stood next to each other, and I was once again struck at how short I was, that I could be a mere foot taller than a dwarf.

"My mother passed away many years ago," I said softly, keeping my eyes on the constellation ahead of me. "Do you see that constellation there?" I asked, pointing.

"Yes," said he, looking over at it.

"I named it after my mother many years ago," I said quietly. "It has been my source of comfort for a long time."

"You say that she passed many years ago," he said cautiously, "But you look younger than I."

"Elves age differently than dwarves," I replied.

"Yes, but how is it that I am nearly one hundred years old and look the same as an age old elf? You much be a very young elf to look younger than I," he said, scrutinizing me.

I felt my anger and frustration rise at the thought that this dwarf was questioning me about something he couldn't possibly understand, and I responded as stiffly as I could, hoping to get him off my case.

"I watched Erebor fall," I said, my voice low. "I have travelled Middle Earth alone for nearly two hundred years. I am not so young as you might think."

He looked shocked. "You watched…?"

I turned to him, finally, and looked him in the eye. At this point, I was on one of the hobbit's lower steps, so he stood taller than I. "I watched as innumerable dwarves were slaughtered by a beast that clawed apart a mountain. I tried to help and was repaid by exile. I have experienced much, dwarf, so—" I would have gone on, but a brown haired dwarf appeared in the door and looked between the blonde dwarf and I, confused.

"It's time to come in," the dwarf said, eyeing me.

"Alright, Bofur," the blonde dwarf said. The dwarf went back inside, and my interrogator turned to leave. I faced the stars again but froze when the dwarf's voice carried over to me. "My name's Fili," he said, a smile in his voice, "Just in case you tire of calling me 'dwarf.'"

I turned and faced him. "Aeyera," I said, smiling faintly despite my recent anger. "I'm Aeyera."

"I know," he said, a cheeky smile on his face. "Goodnight, princess."

The next morning, I found myself riding from the Shire with the dwarves and Gandalf. The dwarves were riding their ponies, and Gandalf his horse, down a path through a wooded area. I rode ahead with Mithrandir, thinking about the hobbit; wondering if he'd show.

"Wait! Wait!"

Speak of the devil.

The dwarves all began shouting "Woah!" and stopping their ponies. My horse reared, neighing loudly, and all the dwarves looked at me as the horse slammed his fore-hooves into the turf, skittish of this small creature's shouts. I turned to see the hobbit sprinting ungainly up the path to the procession, and I smiled as Bilbo caught up to us and handed Balin the contract, which has been flapping uselessly behind him until now.

"I signed it!" Bilbo said proudly, panting. Balin took the contract and inspected it with a pocket-glass as we all waited for him to continue. I couldn't see what the point was, though. I glanced back, feeling someone's eyes on me, and saw Fili smirking at me. He rolled his eyes playfully, and I couldn't help but smile as I turned back to Balin. He smiled at Bilbo.

"Everything appears to be in order. Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield." The old dwarf winked at Bilbo, who grinned in playful offense. The dwarves cheered, but Thorin didn't look too impressed.

"Give him a pony," Thorin said, neither angry nor pleased.

Bilbo looked somewhat alarmed, and I laughed gently at the shocked expression on his face. "No, no, no, that won't be necessary. I'm sure I can keep up on foot. I-I-I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. I even got as far as Frogmorton once—WAGH!" Bilbo's speech was cut off as Fili and the dark haired dwarf rode alongside him and picked him up from behind to put him on a pony.

We began riding again, and I pulled back to ride with the hobbit. I nearly laughed in mirth at the sight before me. Bilbo was riding the pony, looking quite terrified. The pony neighed and tossed its head, making him quite uncomfortable. He held the horse's reigns high in the air, keeping as far away from the gentle beast as possible.

Oin all of a sudden yelled, "Come on, Nori, pay up." I ducked as Nori tossed a sack of money to Oin; and sacks of money began passing between the dwarves.

"What's that about?" the hobbit asked the wizard, who had fallen back to ride with us, and I.

"Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you'd turn up," I told him.

"Most of them bet that you wouldn't," the wizard said, keeping his eyes on the trail.

Bilbo frowned. "And what did you think?"

Gandalf caught a sack of money tossed to him and threw it into the air, testing its weight. Laughing, he put it in his bag.

"My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second."

Bilbo suddenly sneezed loudly and began searching his pockets for his handkerchief as I looked on in amusement. He was unable to find it, and he looked up in shock. "No, wait, wait, stop! Stop! We have to turn around." The entire company came to a halt, and the dwarves started objecting and asking what the problem was.

"What on earth is the matter?" The wizard asked gruffly.

"I forgot my handkerchief," Bilbo complained, still searching his pockets. Bofur pulled a filthy piece of cloth from the edge of his shirt tossed it to Bilbo.

"Here! Use this." Bilbo caught the rag and looked at it in disgust. The dwarves laughed and began to continue their journey.

"Move out," one of the dwarves called.

"You'll have to manage without pocket-handkerchiefs and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins, before we reach our journey's end. You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire, but home is now behind you; the world is ahead."

"Here," I said softly, pulling a much cleaner cloth from my pocket. I unfolded it and handed it to the startled hobbit, who hesitantly took it. "Use this."

"Oh, I-I—thank you," he stammered, baffled. "I-I am afraid I didn't catch your name."

"I am Aeyera Greenleaf," I said, smiling.

"And—and are you really a princess?" he asked, looking up at me. My smile faded and I looked thoughtfully at the hobbit.

"I was, once," I replied. "I am not anymore."

Later on that night, we all rested near the edge of a cliff. Whoever the genius was that come up with that plan, I don't know. I had always been somewhat wary around heights. It was not so much a fear of heights as it was a fear of falling; this annoyed me quite a bit.

I watched as one of the larger dwarves—Bombur, as I had managed to find out—slept, and I rested as tiny flying moths got sucked into his mouth every time he inhaled, and were expelled when he exhaled. I looked over to see Bilbo watching as well, annoyed and disgusted. He finally got up and walked around. I stood and stretched before making my way to the fire, where Fili and the other dwarf sat. Most of the dwarves were asleep, but the wizard was awake, smoking his pipe.

I looked over at the two dwarves, who were watching me warily as if afraid I'd try and cut their throats. "I'm Aeyera," I said, smiling at them. "I'm afraid I didn't catch your names."

They looked startled but pleased at the same time, and Fili gave me a knowing look and a smile. "I'm Fili," the golden haired one said. "This here's my brother Kili."

I smiled. "Nice to officially meet you."

Kili shifted and looked over at me distrustfully. "Why is it than an elf princess like yourself chose to join this venture?"

"I never got the chance to help your people when they were attacked," I deadpanned. "I figure that now's as good a time as any to make up for it."

He remained silent, and I rubbed my neck and shoulders in discomfort as the old scars flared with pain. I pulled down the left shoulder of my tunic, not exposing anything, but letting the cool air calm down the inflamed marks. Unfortunately, I forgot that there was someone sitting next to me.

"What's on your shoulder?" Kili asked.

I started and yanked up the hem of the shirt. My mouth was open, but no words come out; I didn't know what to say. Suddenly, a strange and familiar noise filled the air and I froze, frightened. Bilbo, startled by the noise, came over like a frightened thrush, looking all around him for something dangerous. He stood at the edge of the firelight next to Fili and Kili, and I moved to stand next to him to get a better sense of my surroundings.

"What was that?" Bilbo asked, looking around.

"Orcs," Kili said, a solemn look on his face.

Thorin, who was dozing, jerked awake upon hearing the word "Orcs."

"Orcs?" Bilbo repeated. Thorin met my gaze, startled, as the brothers continued.

Fili was speaking now, his voice low and dangerous. "Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them."

His brother picked up where he left off, and I wished he would be silent so that I could listen closely for sounds of an attack. "They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood." Bilbo looks away in fright; Fili and Kili looked at each other and begin laughing. I narrowed my eyes at them and rolled my shoulders, relieving some of the tension built up under the scar tissue there. I opened my mouth to scold them, but Thorin got to them first.

"You think that's funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?" The prince asked, standing and striding menacingly towards the brothers.

Kili looked down, abashed. "We didn't mean anything by it."

Thorin scoffed. "No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world." Thorin turned on his heel and walked off to the edge of the cliff. He looked out over the valley and the ponies, and I moved so that my back rested against the gnarled trunk of an old holly tree. Balin walked up to us and stopped next to Fili and Kili, leaning against the wall of the stone outcropping.

"Don't mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria." The old dwarf stared into the fire, reliving the story as he told it. "But our enemy had got there first. Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs lead by the most vile of all their race: Azog, the Defiler." My head jerked up as the scars on my back gave a particularly painful throb. The shadows of madness were back, clamoring for attention, but the knowledge that I was safe—at least for now—kept them at bay. "The giant Gundobad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began," Balin said sorrowfully, looking down into the fire, "by beheading the King." I could hear Thorin's bellow of disbelief and pain and rage echo through the tale into the present, and I closed my eyes. "Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us. That is when I saw him: a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc. He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent, wielding nothing by an oaken branch as a shield. Azog, the Defiler, learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, nor song, that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King."

As Balin had told the tale, each and every dwarf had awoken and now stood facing their prince. Opening my eyes, I watched as Thorin turned away from the view beyond the cliff; the entire Company awake and standing in awe, staring at him. Thorin walked between them toward the fire and I moved further into the shadows to make myself scarce.

Bilbo spoke up now, curious on one point that I myself had wondered about as well, since it applied to me. "But the pale orc? What happened to him?"

I looked up in curiosity, wondering if my old enemy was indeed gone from this world. I, however, knew better than to ask that particular question around the enraged prince. This dwarf was not the same prince I once knew, and I watched him closely as he all but snarled his answer. "He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago."

Thorin stalked back to wherever he had been before as the other dwarves returned to their sleeping positions. I looked up in time to catch a knowing look pass from Balin to Gandalf, and I shifted uneasily. I moved back into the firelight and remained there, unmoving, until Kili's voice startled me from my thoughts once more. I realized too late that I had absently been rubbing my injured shoulder, and I quickly moved my hands to rest in front of me. The blue-eyed dwarf wasn't fooled.

"You know, princess," he said carefully, ignoring my glare at the use of my old title. "You never did answer my question."

"Which one?" I asked, looking back into the fire as if disinterested. My heart began pounding almost painfully at the prospect of my past being revealed.

"What is on your shoulder?" He asked again, moving closer to me. I moved away and nearly fell off the log I was sitting on. I would have, too, if the dwarf's hand hadn't shot out and grabbed my arm, steadying me.

"A scar," I answered, pulling my arm away gently.

"Pretty big scar to cover both your shoulders," he recounted. I cursed the attentiveness of this dwarf and turned my head away. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, "You know, you don't have to answer. I'm just trying to strike up a friendly conversation."

I waited a moment before replying. "I don't think you want to know the answer, _mellon_." Gandalf met my gaze and held it for a long second before glancing away, and I moved off the log and curled up on the ground, my back to the brothers. "Goodnight, friends."

The next morning dawned cold and wet, and before noon, the Company was riding our mounts through a muddy forest as we were drenched in a never ending downpour. All the dwarves looked cold, wet, and miserable, but I personally enjoyed the rain. Most of the time. Now was an exception.

Dori was the first dwarf to seek a magical solution. "Mr. Gandalf, can't you do something about this deluge?" He asked.

I smirked and moved my horse to ride next to the wizard, who did not look very please with the rain either. "It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard."

"Are there any?" I asked, curious. I myself had never heard of any others besides Mithrandir and Saruman the White.

"What?" Gandalf asked, turning to me.

"Other wizards?" I repeated, pulling my cloak up to cover my face.

"There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two Blue wizards; you know, I've quite forgotten their names."

"And who is the fifth?" I asked.

"Well, that would be Radagast, the Brown."

Bilbo, who apparently had been listening in on our conversation, decided to add his own questions to the mix. "Is he a great Wizard or is he... more like you?"

Gandalf looked slightly offended and I laughed at his affronted expression. "I think he's a very great wizard, in his own way. He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the East, and a good thing too, for always Evil will look to find a foothold in this world."


	10. Chapter 10

After a long, wet ride lasting nearly a week, we eventually outlasted the storm, which gave way to a pale blue sky. Mid afternoon Thorin called us to halt and began calling out orders. "We'll camp here for the night." I dismounted my horse and planted my feet firmly in the knee-length grass, looking around. A dilapidated frame of a house sat not ten yards from where I stood. Gandalf already stood inside, and he beckoned me with his hand when he met my gaze. I quickly moved over to where Gandalf stood, his hand against the support beam of a ruined old house. "Fili, Kili, look after the ponies; make sure you stay with them."

"A farmer and his family used to live here," the wizard said solemnly, running his hand over the old wood.

"What happened to them?" I asked, looking around at the dilapidated frame. A fireplace, mostly in tact, sat at the north end of the house.

"Oin, Gloin. Get a fire going."

"Aye, right you are," came one of the brothers' replies.

"I do not know," Gandalf said, removing his hand from the wood. He turned to look at me with piercing eyes. "And I have no wish to find out." He turned to the group and called out to Thorin, who moved over to us quickly to keep the others from overhearing our conversation. "I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley," the wizard suggested innocently. I looked up at him, surprised and relieved. Perhaps I could receive help for my scars if we went there. _It has been too long,_ I thought. _Too long since I have spoken to one of my kin._

"I have told you already..." Thorin said, leaning towards the wizard and giving me a distrusting glare. "I will not go near that place."

I couldn't help but jump in, indignant and frustrated. "Why not? The Elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice."

"I do not need their advice," he snarled, his tone making it clear that my council was not desired either. I turned and placed my hand against a tree growing through the side of the house, wanting to attack something. Why are dwarves so stubborn?

At this point, Gandalf wisely took back the reigns from me. "We have a map that we cannot read," he said, his sharp voice full of wisdom. "Lord Elrond could help us."

The dwarf prince scoffed, and I couldn't help but wonder what the other dwarves saw in him. What I saw was an arrogant prince, much like my brother when I was very young, who wanted his way and would knock down entire kingdoms to get it. The prince stood in front of the ruined fireplace, moping angrily. "Help?" the dwarf repeated menacingly. "A dragon attacks Erebor. What help came from the Elves?" He spared me a look but said nothing in regards to my actions, the actions that had led to my banishment and torture. Granted, he didn't truly know of the consequences of my actions, but it was infuriating all the same. "The Orcs plunder Moria; desecrate our sacred halls. The Elves looked on and did nothing. And you ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father."

"You are neither of them," the wizard replied, exasperated and angry. "I did not give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past."

"I did not know that they were yours to keep," Thorin spat, looking up at the wizard. Gandalf turned and stomped off angrily, leaving the Company.

`"Everything alright?" Bilbo called.

"Gandalf, where are you going?" I yelled, moving quickly towards him.

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense." "Who's that?" Bilbo asked. I closed my eyes in weariness.

"Myself, Mr. Baggins! I've had enough of dwarves for one day." With that, he disappeared alone the path we had recently vacated.

Thorin didn't seem abashed in the least. "Come on, Bombur, we're hungry." Bilbo turned to me. "Is he coming back?"

"I don't know."

By the time night fell, Bombur had prepared a dinner of soup, and the dwarves were eating it gladly. I sat in the shadows, guarding the camp and watching for any foul creatures that might try and come forward. I ate greens I had gathered; I had no wish to eat meat or stew tonight.

"He's been a long time," Bilbo said to Bofur, coming to stand next to the fire. I agreed. It was not like our wizard to stray so far for so long.

"Who?" the dwarf replied, looking up from the pot of stew, apparently lost. I rolled my eyes. Who else was gone?

"Gandalf."

"He's a wizard! He does as he chooses. Here, do us a favor: take this to the lads." Bofur handed Bilbo two bowls of soup to take to Fili and Kili, which Bilbo accepted. Standing up, I stretched quickly before trailing after the hobbit. "Stop it, you've had plenty," Bofur's voice said faintly from behind us. I heard the sound of a ladle being dropped and smiled at the knowledge that Bombur had been caught nicking some more food. I followed Bilbo into the darkness where Fili and Kili were watching the ponies. I looked between them, frowning. They stared out into the darkness and didn't take the soup from Bilbo when he tried to hand it to them.

"What's the matter?" Bilbo asked, peering into the dark.

"We're supposed to be looking out for the ponies," Kili said flatly, staring blankly ahead of him.

His brother continued, worried. "Only we've encountered a slight problem. We had sixteen. Now there's fourteen."

We all examined the group of ponies, and I mentally counted them out. Twelve? That can't be right: Fili just said fourteen. I counted again. Twelve.

"There're only twelve," I said, counting a third time.

"Daisy and Bungo are missing," Kili said, looking around.

I cursed. "As is Gwairoch," I said, looking around for him.

"Well, that's not good. That is not good at all. Shouldn't we tell Thorin?" Bilbo asked.

"Uhh, no. Let's not worry him. As our official burglar and tracker, we thought you two might like to look into it," Fili said conversationally. I raised my eyebrows at him, and he grinned apologetically but said nothing. I looked around and saw some trees recently uprooted and laying on the ground.

"Well, uh... it looks like something big uprooted these trees," Bilbo stammered, looking around.

_Trolls, _I thought solemnly. "Kili—"

"That was our thinking," he said, taking no notice of me.

"_Kili._"

"Something very big, and possibly quite dangerous."

"Fili!" I tried, growing nervous.

"Hey! There's a light. Over here! Stay down." As Fili spotted the light, the four of us quietly ran through the forest toward it, and we hid behind a log when we realized that it was a fire. Harsh laughter sounded from near it.

"What is it?" Bilbo asked.

"Trolls. Princess, you should've warned us sooner! You're the tracker," Kili accused. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You—" Fili and Kili ran toward the fire before I could retort, and I ran after them, muttering about the recklessness of dwarves. Hearing a crashing noise to my left, I hid behind a tree and watched as a massive mountain troll walked toward the fire, carrying a pony under each arm.

"He's got Myrtle and Minty! I think they're going to eat them, we have to do something," Bilbo said, looking determined.

Kili looked as if he had had a revelation. "Yes; you should. Mountain trolls are slow and stupid, and you're so small, they'll never see you."

"No, no, no…"

He didn't give up. "It's perfectly safe! We'll be right behind you, and besides, Aeyera will be with you the whole time."

"What!?" I nearly screamed. Both dwarves clamped their hands down on my mouth, shushing me, and pushed me towards the hobbit.

Fili whispered from behind us, "If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl, once like a brown owl." Fili and Kili pushed Bilbo and I toward the fire. The hobbit began whispering Fili's instructions to himself, trying to remember them, but got mixed up.

"Twice like a barn owl, twice like a brown...? Are you sure this is a good idea?" Bilbo turned around, but Fili and Kili were already out of sight. The three trolls were sitting around a fire on which a cauldron of something was cooking.

"Bilbo, you don't have to do this," I said, trying to lead him gently away without injury. "This is beyond your ability—"

"You don't think I can do this, do you?" he interrupted, looking hurt.

I felt like screaming and throwing a tantrum. Confound all these little people_! Of course I don't think you can take on the trolls, you're three feet tall!_

"Master Baggins, I don't think _I_ can do this," I said urgently, pleading with him to have some sense. "Please come away from there." I spotted my horse in the pen and gave a low whistle. Seconds later he was by my side, having jumped the fence and made his way around the circle of firelight. "Let's go find help," I urged. "Leave this to someone else."

"I can do this on my own," he said, pulling away from me. "I have to show them I can fend for myself." Without another word he darted off to where the trolls stood, and I cursed and mounted my horse, turning his nose away from the fire and urging him back to the main path. With any luck, our wizard wouldn't be too far ahead.

- By the time I made it back, several minutes before the wizard, I might add, the trolls had tied several dwarves onto a spit and were roasting them over a fire; the rest, and Bilbo, were tied up in sacks nearby. I put my hand to my forehead, tired. Why did this have to be so complicated? I listened into the trolls' conversation, not sure which one was which.

"Why bother cooking them? Let's just sit on them and squash them into jelly."

"They should be sautéed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage."

"Ooh, that does sound quite nice." The dwarves on the spit and in the bags were all making noises and talking in fear, and I moved around so that Kili could see me. I held a finger to my lips, but he didn't look very pleased to see me. On the contrary; he looked betrayed and angry, but I didn't have time to worry about it then.

"Never mind the seasoning; we ain't got all night! Dawn ain't far away, so let's get a move on. I don't fancy being turned to stone." I frowned and watched as Gandalf began making his way around the clearing. Bilbo, hearing what the troll said, apparently had an idea.

"Wait! You are making a terrible mistake."

"You can't reason with them, they're half-wits!" Dori yelled.

"Half-wits?" Bofur cried, "What does that make us?"

Bilbo managed to stand up, although still tied up in a sack. He faced the trolls. "I meant with the, uh, with the seasoning."

The troll leaned down close to the hobbit, speaking threateningly. "What about the seasoning?"

Bilbo scoffed. "Well have you smelt them? You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up."

The dwarves all began yelling at Bilbo, calling him a traitor. The ones in sacks kicked at him, and I would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so dire.

"What do you know about cooking dwarf?" One troll asked indignantly. I would have guessed that he was the cook.

"Shut up. Let the, uh, flurgaburburrahobbit talk," Another asked, interested in what Bilbo had to say.

"Uh, the secret to cooking dwarf is, um-" Bilbo paused, thinking.

"Yes? Come on, tell us the secret."

"Um, yes, I'm telling you, the secret is… to skin them first!" Bilbo exclaimed. Major objections broke out from the dwarves, and they threatened to beat and kill him.

"Tom, get me the filleting knife," the same troll said, gesturing to a troll behind him.

"What a load of rubbish!" 'Tom' said. "I've eaten plenty with their skins on. Scuff them, I say, boots and all!"

I begin moving quickly towards a large rock, Gandalf beside me and closer to the trolls and dwarves. "He's right! Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf! Nice and crunchy." One of the trolls grabbed Bombur, who was in a sack, and dangled him upside down over his mouth, about to eat him.

"Not that one, he's infected!" Bilbo yelped.

The trolls froze. "You what?"

"He's got worms in his … tubes," Bilbo said, shrugging as if to make it clear to me that he had no idea what he was saying. The troll holding Bombur dropped him back into the pile of Dwarves in disgust, shrieking. "In fact they all have it, they're all infested with parasites. It's a terrible business; I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."

"Parasites, did he say parasites?" Oin yelled.

"We don't have parasites! You have parasites!" Kili shouted angrily. The rest of the dwarves chimed in about how they didn't have parasites and how Bilbo was a fool. Bilbo rolls his eyes as the dwarves mess up his plan. Thorin, the only dwarf understanding Bilbo's plan, kicked the others, who suddenly understood. They then went along with it.

"I've got parasites as big as my arm!"

"Mine are the biggest parasites, I've got huge parasites!" Kili yelped. All the dwarves began proclaiming about how they're "riddled" with parasites.

Tom the troll turned to Bilbo. "What would you have us do, then, let 'em all go?"

Bilbo smiled, shrugging. "Well..."

"You think I don't know what you're up to? This little ferret is taking us for fools!" He yelled to his friends.

Bilbo frowned, offended. "Ferret?!"

"Fools?" A troll asked.

By now I stood atop a large stone looking down upon the scene before me, the dawn at my back.

"The dawn will take you all!" Gandalf bellowed from next to me.

"Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat him too?" Gandalf struck the rock with his staff, splitting it in half and allowing the sunlight behind it to pour into the clearing. When the sunlight touched the trolls' skin, they began turning into stone amidst loud screams and howls of pain. Within seconds, there were three stone statues of trolls in the clearing. All the dwarves cheered for Gandalf, though many gave me distrusting glares as well. Of course, the dwarves on the spit, including Dwalin, still looked uncomfortable.

"Oh, get your foot out of my back!"

- Later on that morning; the dwarves had been freed from the spit and from the sacks. I walked behind the wizard, unwilling to go speak to any of the surly dwarves walking around the trolls' campsite.

Thorin came up to Gandalf and spoke to him quietly, ignoring me, "Where did you go to, if I may ask?"

"To look ahead," he said, moving to the next troll.

"What brought you back?" Thorin asked, not so much as glancing in my direction.

"Looking behind. Nasty business. Still, you are all in one piece."

Thorin smiled grimly. "No thanks to your burglar, or your elf."

"He had the nerve to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that. As for the princess, she is the reason I looked behind. If she had not found me and brought me back, you would be a troll's breakfast by now." Thorin looked repentant, and I moved away as he and Gandalf examined the statues of the trolls.

"Princess."

I turned to see Fili and Kili next to the statue of Tom, and I moved to stand next to them, still eavesdropping on the wizard's converstaion.

"They must have come down from the Ettenmoors," Gandalf said, his voice carrying over from where he and Thorin still stood.

"Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?" Thorin asked, shocked.

"Not for an age, not since a darker power ruled these lands." Gandalf and Thorin looked meaningfully at each other. "They could not have moved in daylight."

"There must be a cave nearby."

"I heard what Gandalf said," Kili blurted suddenly. I turned to him, surprised. "I'm sorry I doubted you. I thought you had run away and left us to die. I was wrong."

I could tell whether I should feel hurt or humbled. I bowed lightly to him. "I understand your concern, Prince," I said softly. "But please understand that I would never betray you or your company."

It was the brothers' turn to be humbled. They both bowed. "We know."

After much searching, the company found a large cave nearby, and they entered it, me following behind them. I've never been overly fond of caves, especially troll hoards. This one was full of treasure the trolls had been gathering.

Nori gagged. "What's that stench?!"

Gandalf frowned. "It's a troll horde. Be careful what you touch." As we entered the cave, many of the dwarves cough and retch at the pungent odor. Inside, they found piles of gold coins and other treasure in caskets.

"Seems a shame just to leave it lying around. Anyone could take it," one said. I moved further in, looking at a bundled that looked to have been tossed in the corner.

"Agreed. Nori, get a shovel."

I crouched down next to the bundle and stifled a scream when a large spider crawled onto it. I hate spiders more than _anything. _

"These swords were not made by any troll," Gandalf's voice came to me as I whacked the spider off the bunch. "Nor were they made by any smith among men." The sound of a sword being drawn cam came to me as I unfolded the wrapping. My mouth fell open as I beheld the twin mithril blades in my hand, much older than I. Engravings were etched near the hilt. I unwrapped the bundled further to reveal a quiver of mithril tipped arrows and a bow of yew, oiled and well taken care of, being magic. "These were forged in Gondolin by the High Elves of the First Age." I stood and spun around, shocked. I saw that upon realizing that the blades were of elvish make, Thorin started to put his away in disgust. "You could not wish for a finer blade," he snapped. Unwillingly, Thorin held on to the sword. He drew it out of its sheath a few inches as well, and I saw that he marveled briefly at its craftsmanship.

As I made my way to the door, I saw some of the dwarves filling a chest with treasure, and then burying it in a hole in the ground. Dwalin looked on in disgust.

"We're making a long term deposit," One said, smiling up at the disinterested dwarf.

Thorin followed my lead and began leaving the troll hoard. "Let's get out of this foul place. Come on, let's go. Bofur! Gloin! Nori!"

I followed Thorin, and as I made my way out, I stepped on something metallic which clanged under my shoe. I knelt down and brushed away old leaves only to discover a short sword, rather like one of the knives I now held. I picked it up and headed out of the cave and over to where Bilbo was sitting. I handed Bilbo the sword I had found.

"Bilbo, here. This is about your size," I said, pushing it into his hands.

The poor hobbit looked startled and afraid. "I can't take this."

I moved closer to him and whispered into his ear, "The blade is of Elvish make which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby."

"I have never used a sword in my life," he said, looking worried.

"And I hope you never have to," I answered, straightening up and crossing y arms over my chest protectively. "And if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one."

The hobbit looked humbled and opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, my hand in the air. Something wasn't right. I turned my head, scanning the green woods for any sign of danger. Birds chirped in the trees, and the golden sunlight pierced through the leaves, but there was no visible sign of danger.

Then I heard it: a crashing sound, accompanied by the sound of many feet heading straight toward us.

"Something's coming!" Thorin yelled.

"Gandalf-" Bilbo began, looking around for the wizard.

"Stay together! Hurry now. Arm yourselves." As I watched, Bilbo slowly drew his sword and looked at it. He then followed the others, who had run off into the woods. With one last glance, I followed.


	11. Chapter 11

We ran, to where I wasn't sure. I stopped, a strange feeling overtaking me. The sound of the footsteps was clear to me, and it was not the sound of the feet of men or of the paws of wargs. Rather…

I smiled and rushed to the front of the company to where Gandalf ran.

"Gandalf," I yelped happily. "Stop running!"

As the words left me mouth, Radagast the Brown, who was riding at full speed through the forest on his rabbit-drawn sleigh, pulled up short next to the Company.

"Thieves! Fire! Murder!" He was shouting, panicked.

Gandalf looked relieved and annoyed, and he and I stepped up to the disgruntled wizard.

"Radagast!" I exclaimed, happy to see my old friend again. He winked at me happily before turning to the other wizard, suddenly solemn.

"Radagast the Brown. What on earth are you doing here?" Gandalf asked.

Radagast did not look at me, but kept his wild eyes on the wizard. "I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong."

"Yes?" Gandalf asked, waiting for an answer. Radagast opened his mouth to speak, but shut it a moment later. He opened his mouth again, his finger in the air, but closed it again, looking confused.

"What's wrong with him?" Bilbo asked, looking up at me.

I smiled, bemused. "He has forgotten what he was going to say."

Radagast looked upset, frowning. "Just give me a minute. Oh, I had a thought, and now I've lost it. It was right there, on the tip of my tongue." He suddenly curled up his tongue, looking surprised. "Oh, it's not the thought at all; it's just a little—" Gandalf pulled a stick insect out of Radagast's mouth, much to my amusement, "—stick insect!"

The dwarves and Bilbo looked flustered, and I smiled, moving over with the wizards. Radagast, Gandalf, and I went off a few paces and spoke privately.

"The Greenwood is sick, Princess." The kind wizard whispered urgently to me, "A darkness has fallen over it. Nothing grows any more, at least nothing good. The air is foul with decay. But worst are the webs."

My eyes widened, and I lost the ability to speak. _Webs?!_ Gandalf spoke my concerns. "Webs? What do you mean?"

Radagast continued, nervous. "Spiders, Gandalf. Giant ones. Some kind of spawn of Ungoliant, or I am not a Wizard." I turned around and leaned against a tree for support, shaking. I mentally constructed his journey in my mid as he spoke, but instead of Radagast, I saw myself. "I followed their trail. They came from Dol Guldur." I shuddered involuntarily at the name, the scars covering my body throbbing painfully. The madness whispered words of doubt and fear in my mind, and I wanted nothing more than to clamp my hands over my ears and cower to the ground in a ball, screaming.

"Dol Guldur? But the old fortress is abandoned," Gandalf said, a frown evident in his voice.

I turned around, shaking, and both wizards turned to me in concern. "No, Gandalf, it is not."

Radagast picked up, telling his story. "A dark power dwells there, such as I have never felt before. It is the shadow of an ancient horror." The kind-hearted wizard closed his eyes in horror of the memories engraved in his mind. "I saw him, Gandalf. From out of the darkness, a Necromancer has come." He described running, calling his sleigh, and flying away to find us. He finally awakened from his flashback, very excited. "Sorry," he said.

"Try a little Old Toby. It'll help settle your nerves." Gandalf cleaned his pipe with his beard, and then offers it to Radagast, who breathed in the smoke. "And out." Radagast, with his eyes crossed and a blissful look on his face, blew out the smoke, then stays in a trance-like state for a few seconds. "Now," Gandalf said, snapping the other wizard out of his daze, "a Necromancer. Are you sure?"

Radagast pulled out a cloth-wrapped package and handed it to Gandalf. I moved away, the evil aura around it driving me from it and causing a fresh wave of pain to come over me. Gandalf untied it and opened it; upon seeing its contents, he looked concerned and momentarily terrified. I did not so much as glance at what I knew was inside. I did not need to. I had once had it buried up to the hilt in my flesh.

"That is not from the world of the living," Radagast warned. Suddenly, a howl was heard in the distance, and I stiffened, my hands going to the mithril weapons op my back. I winced as the old wound throbbed again.

Poor, clueless Bilbo looked up, concerned. "Was that a wolf? Are there wolves out there?"

Bofur looked around. "Wolves? No, that is not a wolf."

From behind a nearby crag, a Warg appeared; it leapt into the midst of the Company, knocking down one of the dwarves. Thorin struck and killed it using his blade, not noticing that the elven blade had saved his life. Another Warg attacked from the other side; Kili and I shot it with two arrows, bringing it down, but not before it got a swipe at my side, reopening the old wound. I staggered back, arms wrapped around my middle, and moaned in pain. Few to none of the dwarves noticed; they were too busy prodding the wargs and making sure they were for sure dead. A good thing, too, since the one I shot surged up, only to be killed by Dwalin. I rushed over, gripping my side, and yanked out the mithril arrow; something told me that this quiver was not to be lost. I wrapped my cloak around my torso, covering the wound as best I could.

Thorin looked up, glaring at me as though I personally had led the orcs to our location. "Warg-Scouts! Which means an Orc pack is not far behind," he spat.

"Orc pack?" Bilbo squawked.

Gandalf turned to Thorin, wild eyed. "Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?"

"No one," Thorin said, looking around and counting the dwarves.

"Who did you tell?" Gandalf yelled.

"No one, I swear," Thorin bellowed back, turning to the wizard, "What in Durin's name is going on?" He asked, his voice hushed.

Gandalf straightened, no longer leaning on his staff. "You are being hunted."

"We have to get out of here," Dwalin announced, gripping his axe tightly.

"We can't!" Ori wailed, running up to the group. "We have no ponies; they bolted."

I cursed, looking around. Gwairoch was gone as well, which means I now had to retreat on foot.

Radagast turned to mount his sleight. "I'll draw them off."

I grabbed his arm, preventing his from climbing up on the sled. "These are Gundobad Wargs; they will outrun you," I pleaded, having no wish for my friend to be cut down.

The wizard turned to me, a dangerous and wily grin on his face. "These are Rhosgobel Rabbits; I'd like to see them try."

Minutes later, the company stood at the edge of the forest, watching as Radagast led the orc-pack away. I watched from behind a rock as Radagast and the Wargs disappeared in the distance, praying that he would come out of this unharmed.

The wizard turned around, beckoning to all of us to move. "Come on!"

We burst out of the woods and rushed across a rocky plane. In the distance, Radagast was being chased by the Wargs; one of them crashed while trying to catch him.

Sweat dripped down my face and back as we ran, streaming down my legs and making my leggings stick to my skin. I glanced down every few minutes to adjust my cloak and cover up the bloody, tattered remains of my tunic. Blood was quickly seeping through the fabric, and I could feel myself tiring much faster than any elf should. We continued running, weaving around boulders and rises, until the Warg pack reappeared, headed towards us. I tripped and nearly fell trying to backpedal, and Kili grabbed my arm, yanking me with him as he ran.

"Be careful!" He called, struggling to catch his breath. Normally I ran with ease; it was a perk of being an elf: not tiring easily. However, my nerves and would made my knees shake and my mind foggy, and Kili was welcome support. He kept an iron grip on my arm as we ran.

"Stay together," Gandalf panted.

"Move!" Thorin bellowed.

We continued running for long periods of time, stealing split-second breaks when we could. As the chase continued, Thorin stopped behind a rock so that he was not seen by the Wargs or their riders. Kili prevented me from running into them. I tried to stand on my own, but I stopped, frowning, and felt my eyes roll back in my head as my knees gave out. Kili caught me and lowered me to the ground.

"What's wrong with her?" Bofur asked worriedly, moving to stand next to us. I could barely make anything out; and yet at the same time, everything was in clear focus. I could see the sweat on every dwarf's brow, see the panic and anger in Thorin's eyes; see the terror on Kili's face. I couldn't understand why I was in so much pain.

I looked up and saw my brother looking down at me. There were others as well, but I couldn't make out their faces. _"Legolas?"_ I asked dazedly in Elvish. _"What are you doing here?"_ I raised my hand, confused at the bright red color of my skin. Moving it further, I touched his face, making sure he was real, but I frowned when my hand came into contact with whiskers. "You have a beard," I murmured sleepily, my eyes closing. My body jerked in pain, and I whimpered. _"Legolas, help me…"_

"What's wrong with her?" Someone shouted.

My eyes drifted shut as pain overwhelmed me.

Kili's POV

I stared down at the elf in my arms whom had just fallen unconscious. _Perfect timing, princess_, I thought. My blood turned cold as my mind registered the bright red hue of her hand, and the ashen tone of her skin. I took in the tattered remains of her tunic, and panic set in as my mind wheeled into overdrive.

"Ori, no!" I looked up to see my uncle yelling at Ori, who had run out of the cover. He ignored him and continued to book it to the next outcropping of rock.

The wizard looked down at the girl in my arms but said nothing to me. He turned to the others. "Come on! Quick!"

We continued running, and I was surprised at how light the girl I held was. It was hardly a challenge carrying her; at least, until she began shaking, jerking in her sleep.

"_Stop!_" she screamed, startling me so badly I nearly dropped her. She thrashed, trying to get away. "_Stop it!_"

"Fili!" I yelled to my brother, struggling to keep a grip on the thrashing elf in my arms. My brother fell back to me and took her into his arms, relieving me of my burden. My heart pounded a league a minute; I had no idea how to staunch the bleeding wound the princess bore, and even if I knew how, we had no time given our current predicament.

Soon after giving the elf to Fili, we took cover behind an outcropping of rock. A scout and his Warg appeared on top of the outcropping, scenting the air; I could see his shadow on the ground. I gripped my bow and slowly pulled an arrow from my quiver, watching the darkness carefully. Uncle Thorin looked over at me and nodded; readying an arrow, I quickly stepped out and shot the Warg, hitting the target but not killing it.

The Warg and the orc riding it fell next to the rock, and the rest of the dwarves killed them with much yelling and clanging of weapons that even a man could hear. The sounds of our fight carried quite far; the other Wargs and Orcs stopped chasing Radagast and turned towards the rocks.

Gandalf paled. "Move. Run!"

The company ran through the grassy plain; Wargs began to surround us from all sides.

"There they are!" Gloin yelled, his legs pumping furiously as we blindly followed the wizard to wherever he was leading us.

"This way! Quickly!" Gandalf yelled.

We ran for a while longer, then halted in a clearing. I turned to see Wargs on all sides. "There's more coming!" I bellowed.

"Kili! Shoot them!" Uncle Thorin commanded.

Fili's voice reached my ears. "We're surrounded!"

I tried my best to keep my head and whipped around, searching for our wizard. "Where is Gandalf?"

Dwalin growled in response, "He has abandoned us!"

I ignored him and turned, firing arrow after arrow at the Wargs and their riders, killing some of them and injuring others. I glanced back to see the rest of the company gathering close to each other near the rock outcropping. _Very helpful, _I thought, sending another arrow into the eye of a Warg which fell to my felt, sending pebbles and chunks of dirt into my face. A particularly ugly orc and his warg approach, one of the other dwarves shot at it with his slingshot, which did nothing but annoy the beast. I heard the telltale sound of Thorin pulling out his sword, and I felt a wave of helplessness crash down on me.

"Hold your ground!" He yelled, starting towards me.

I turned to look at my uncle and caught sight of Gandalf popping up from a crack in the rock. "This way, you fools!"

Thorin recovered from his shock quickly and turned to the others, herding them towards the wizard. "Come on, move! Quickly, all of you! Go, go go!"

As the Wargs approached, company, Bilbo, and the princess slid into the large crack in the rock, sliding out of view. Thorin and I continued hacking and shooting at any warg that got too near. Thorin killed an orc that got too close, and I shots its mount before sending another arrow into the skull of another goblin.

Such was my furor that I didn't notice that my uncle had fallen back until his panicked voice reached my ears. "Kili! Run!"

I turned and sprinted away from the approaching evil, diving into the crack last. I landed underneath my uncle and grunted as Gloin helped me stand. As I did so, a strange sound filled the air. It was clearly a hunting horn, but not one of any make I had yet heard. I started, surprised, as one of the orcs, shot by an arrow, fell into the cave.

Thorin plucked out the arrow and examined its make before standing and throwing the shaft down in disgust. "Elves."

I turned to see that there was a pathway at the end of the cave, leading away from the battle above. Dwalin stood at the entrance, peering into the dark. "I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or no?"

Bofur jogged forward. "Follow it, of course!"

Gandalf followed. "I think that would be wise."

I glanced at Fili, who still carried the elf princess. Her face was white, and her skin was clammy and drenched with sweat. I looked into my brother's eyes and shared a knowing look with him before falling back to share some private words.

"How is she?" I asked, looking ahead at the rest of the company, who by now had begun following the path. It was quite narrow, and it was a crack between two tall cliffs.

"Not well," Fili said, looking down at her sadly. I pressed two fingers to her neck to feel for a pulse and kept them there to keep track of her wellbeing.

"Let me take her," I said, taking her from his arms and keeping my hand at her throat.

_Thump Thump._

"You're going to be alright, lass," I whispered, continuing the trek onwards.

_Thump Thump. _

At times, we had much difficulty going through, and it was difficult for me to manage while still carrying Aeyera.

_Thump Thump._

The pathway eventually opened out into an open area; there was a valley below, and in that valley was a beautiful city.

Gandalf looked at the city in love. "The Valley of Imraldis. In the Common Tongue, it's known by a another name."

Bilbo looked on in wonder. "Rivendell."

Gandalf looked over at it, a smile of remembrance on his face. "Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea."

_Thump._

"Gandalf!" I called, panicked. I ran up to him, gripping the elf tightly. The wizard frowned when her saw her prone form, and his face turned grave when he took in the amount of blood on her clothing.

"When did this happen?" he demanded, laying the girl down in the stone as the others continued unwillingly onwards, led by Thorin.

"I don't know; it must have been…" I replayed the moment in the woods again, capturing details my adrenaline-driven mind hadn't been able to take in before. "… when the second scout attacked us; the warg must have taken a swipe at her. What to we do?" I asked again, fear tearing at my heart.

"We must get her to Elrond," he said as I picked up the girl. "Hopefully he will be here."

I turned and headed towards Rivendell, rushing towards the city of light, a dying princess in my arms. All I could think was three words over and over and over: "Don't leave me."


	12. Chapter 12

Kili's POV

Thorin moved to the back of the group and spoke to Gandalf, stopping him from moving forward. "This was your plan all along," He accused, fuming, "To seek refuge with our enemy."

Gandalf looked at him in what I can only call disappointment. "You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"Do you think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us," Uncle argued. I looked down at the dying elf: _Surely her people would try to help her. If they did not…_ I refused to think about the alternative.

Gandalf scoffed, annoyed with Thorin's behavior. "Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me."

The Company finally reached Rivendell, and we walked across a bridge to enter the city. A few elves were strolling about. I looked around, awed by the beauty of this place; the others looked uneasy.

I looked up as a dark haired elf walked down a flight of stairs and greeted us.

The elf bowed his head and placed a hand over his heart. "Mithrandir."

Gandalf smiled, clearly pleased. "Ah, Lindir!" As Lindir and Gandalf spoke to each other, the other dwarves murmured amongst themselves in distrust.

"Lastannem i athrannedh i Vruinen." The elf said. I remembered trying to learn elvish long ago; I was surprised to find I could understand him. _We heard you had crossed into the Valley_.

Gandalf's face became grave again. "I must speak with Lord Elrond," he requested firmly.

The elf frowned. "My lord Elrond is not here."

Gandalf paled and glanced back at Aeyera, whose breathing had become shallow and her entire body drenched in sweat. "Not here? Where is he?"

Suddenly, the Elvish horns from before sounded again. The Company turned around to see a group of armed horsemen approaching the bridge.

"Ifridî bekâr!" _Ready weapons!] Hold ranks! _

We bunched up together into a tight circle with our weapons pointed outward, myself and the princess in the middle. The mounted Elves arrived and rode in circles around us. Eventually, they stopped, and one elf, whom I assumed to be Elrond, separated himself from the others.

The elf smiled knowingly. "Gandalf."

Gandalf bowed gracefully. "Mellonnen! Mo evínedh?"

The rest of the conversation was lost on me. I tuned back in when Thorin stepped forward. Elrond looked upon him with recognition. "Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I do not believe we have met."

Elrond looked him over. "You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled over the Mountain."

Thorin looked at him, arrogance radiating off him. "Indeed; he made no mention of you." Ignoring this insult, Elrond turned to the rest of us and said something in Elvish, which apparently was offensive to some of us.

"What is he saying?" Gloin growled, "Does he offer us insult?" The dwarves grew aggressive, and I rolled my eyes, having understood the words "wine" and "food" in his announcement.

"No, master Gloin, he's offering you food," the amused wizard corrected.

The others quickly discussed this amongst themselves. "Ah well, in that case, lead on."

I turned my attention away from the matter at hand and back to the princess. She wasn't breathing.

"Gandalf!" I cried, elbowing my way through the ranks of my kin and charging up to where the wizard and the elf lord stood. "She's not breathing," I said, my own breath hitching in my throat. "Please—you have to help her."

Elrond looked stunned. "This is princess Aeyera of the Woodland realm," he said, his hand on her forehead. "And she has not been seen for nearly two hundred years. How is it that you have come by her?"

"That is a tale for another time," Gandalf interrupted. "But our princess is in danger; it is inevitable that she be helped _now_."

Elrond nodded and took the girl from me. "I will do what I can."

Later on, we sat around tables in the Elven court, eating. However, since elves apparently are not not very fond of meat, none of us were eating very much of their rabbit food.

"Try it," Dori urged his brother, "Just a mouthful."

Ori pouted and crossed his arms. "I don't like green food."

Dwalin looked through a bowl of greens as I pushed a radish around my plate. "Where's the meat?"

Oin held up a vegetable with his knife and looked at in disgust.

Ori looked around the table. "Have they got any chips?"

An Elf maiden, who inadvertently reminded me of Aeyera, played a harp in the background.

"She'll be alright, you know," Fili whispered to me.

I started. "What?"

"Aeyera. She'll be fine. Elves are tougher than we give them credit for. How do you think they live so long? She'll be fine, you'll see."

I nodded and looked down at my food, queasy. Elrond and Gandalf walked through the halls of Rivendell; they caught my eye from across the courtyard. I strained me ears to hear their conversation, and I was able to make it out over the grumbling of my kin.

"Kind of you to invite us," Gandalf said good-naturedly. "I'm not really dressed for dinner."

Elrond smiled. "Well, you never are." They both laughed, but quickly turned somber. "She's been struck with a blade even I have little knowledge of," Elrond said. "She's endured more torture than anyone should have survived."

"How is she still alive?" Gandalf asked.

"Willpower," the elf lord answered. "Strength. Possible love, whether for her brother or someone else, I do not know."

They arrived at the courtyard where we were eating, ending their conversation. An elf maiden played a flute above our heads. Oin, not liking the sound, stuffed a napkin in his hearing trumpet and looked happy that he could no longer hear the music. I stood and moved to the pair.

"How is Princess Aeyera?" I asked. "Is she…?" I couldn't bring myself to ask it.

Elrond smiled grimly and placed his hand on my shoulder. "She's alive," he said. I sighed in relief. "However, I found several things when healing her that need to be discussed."

"Well? What are they?" I asked impatiently.

"That is not a conversation to be held here," he replied, glancing over at my uncle, who was eyeing us warily. "I will speak with you later on."

Soon after finishing the meal, Elrond was presented with the two blades my uncle and Gandalf had found in the troll hoard to examine. He looked first at the blade belonging to Thorin. He gazed at it in wonder, drawing it from its sheath and reading the runes near the hilt. "This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well," he said, sheathing the blade and handing it back to my uncle, who accepted it with a nod of gratitude. Elrond then examined Gandalf's sword, a look of pride upon his face. "And this is Glamdring, the Foe-hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for goblin wars of the First Age..."

Across the table, Bilbo pulled out his sword and looked at it as if trying to decide whether or not he should show it to the great elf in the hopes that it would be some great and famous blade. Balin, smiling gently, dashed those hopes. "I wouldn't bother, laddie. Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war."

Bilbo looked up, smiling bemusedly. "What are you saying, my sword hasn't seen battle?"

Balin grimaced. "I'm not actually sure it is a sword; more of a letter opener, really." Bilbo frowned and looked down at his sword again, disappointed.

Elrond spoke again, handing the sword back to Gandalf with awe on his face. "How did you come by these?"

Gandalf smiled. "We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs."

Elrond raised his eyebrows. "And what were you doing on the Great East Road?"

I chanced a glance at Thorin, who looked perturbed.

"Master Kili," Elrond said, standing. "Might I have a word with you?"

I all but jumped from my seat. "Of course," I said, breathless. Thorin frowned, but Fili winked at me before returning to his salad.

We walked together from the hall; my head barely reached his elbow, unlike with Aeyera, who was nearly my own height.

"How is she?" I asked, walking down the moonlit halls. I kept my eyes straight ahead, not wanting to see Elrond's face.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" He asked, stopping at an oaken door. Before we entered, however, he turned to me gravely. "There are some things you should know. She carried many scars before I received her into my care; many more than someone so young and pure should ever have to bear. There are traces of a dark magic that linger about her; of such a kind I barely remember."

"So young?" I asked. "How old is she? I thought all elves were near the same age, just centuries and centuries old."

He smiled at my naivety. "No. Elves are not all the same age. I, for instance, have lived on this earth since the first age of Middle Earth."

"The first age…?" I repeated, awestruck.

"Yes," He said, smiling sadly. I could see the weight of the ages pressing down upon him, and it made me wonder how long my princess had been alive in this world.

"But what of Aeyera?" I pressed, "You said she was young. Does it mean that she is young for an elf, or compared to you, or…?"

"She is very young compared to me," he said, looking down at me. "But still a bit old than you."

"How—"

"She is one hundred and ninety-six years old," Elrond said. "And you are, if I am not mistaken, in your mid seventies." I nodded. "She is an elfling by most standards, and considered even more so because of her size and looks."

"So she would not know if this magic," I thought aloud. "But you do."

The elf remained silent and stared at the oak door before us.

"You _do _remember," I urged. "Surely you could not have forgotten if this magic has disturbed you so."

He looked me up and down. "You are quite sharp, for a dwarf," he said, and I knew he meant it as a complement. "There are few among men, Halflings, or your own race who could have guessed this. Yes, I remember, though the last time I sensed such darkness was nearly three thousand years ago. Yet this is not important now," he said, ending that particular conversation. "What is important is that the princess will live. She will, however, carry a burden none of you have to bear."

"And what is that?" I asked.

"She has been wounded by a Morgul blade," he relented, taking back his statement of the unimportance of the magic.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"I do not know if there is a piece of the blade still within her or not, but whatever the case, it is not a wound that can be healed."

"So what will happen to her?" I asked, afraid.

"She will live on Middle Earth until she can no longer bear such a burden. Then she will set sail for the Undying Lands with the rest of her kin."

"She… she's leaving?" I stammered, shell-shocked.

"Not now," he said. "She has grown fond of your company; I could not keep her here if I tried. However, someday, she will leave, and you will be unable to stop her. You will have to let her go."

"And…" I licked my lips nervously, "And if she doesn't go? If she chooses to stay?"

He looked at me gravely. "I hope you never have to find out."

He turned to the door and pushed it open quietly, motioning me inside with his hand. I moved inside, expecting the elf to leave, but he stayed inside and moved to the princess' bedside after shutting the door. I followed slowly, still trying to process this information.

Aeyera lay upon a bed, her torso wrapped in bandages and her lower body covered my sheets. I could not tell if she wore more than that, and I found that I did not care. Her dark hair was spread like a mane around her head, and her wound was uncovered. I was shocked at what I saw: the gruesome wound had closed, and angry red scars lay where there had been torn flesh a few mere hours ago.

"Stand back," Elrond said, moving closer to her and placing his hands over the scars. I became aware of a sharp, fresh smell in the air coming from a pot of boiled water next to the elves. Elrond pulled a bundle of what looked like weeds from it and pressed it to her skin, murmuring a song-like incantation as steam filled the room. Nearly an hour later, he rose, exhausted. The scars were now a faint pink, and the princess was still sound asleep.

"She will be fine," he said. I nodded gratefully, unable to speak.

Aeyera's POV

I awoke feeling refreshed and confused, staring up at a paneled ceiling of a room that looked strangely like my own from the Greenwood. I sat up and winced, touching my side. I was startled to see that only scars remained where earlier had been a gaping wound. I tentatively stood, knees shaking, and put on a robe to cover my exposed upper half. I wore light leggings underneath, and was barefoot. I wandered the paths of Rivendell, searching for the company, and stopped when I heard a familiar voice.

"So this is your purpose, to enter the Mountain."

Thorin's voice joined the first, and I started forward again until the group came into view. "What of it?"

The elf who first spoke held out the map to Thorin. "There are some who would not deem it wise." Thorin took back the map gruffly.

Gandalf turned to the elf, "Who do you mean?"

The elf looked at Gandalf, wisdom shining in his eyes, and I became aware that this was the Lord Elrond whom I had tried to see so many times before. "You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-earth." As Elrond walked away, Gandalf turned slowly, thinking deeply. Elrond passed me and stopped.

"Elrond," I said, stepping out of the shadows and bowing. "It is an honor, my lord."

Elrond bowed back. "The same, my lady. You are much better than you were before. I am glad. May I ask you something?"

"Of course." He hand out his arm and guided me back to my room.

"The White Council is meeting," he said. "You alone of all the elves have seen the rifts between it which have grown as of late. You saw them once as a child; you can discern them again, should you be present when they appear. I would ask that you join our meeting while you are in Imladris."

I opened my mouth in surprise but bowed my head all the same. "I would be honored, my lord."

He smiled. "I will have your garments and weapons returned to you before the meeting," he said, "Though I recommend you take your brother's advice and not bring your weapons to a peaceful gathering."

I smiled in remembrance of the argument. "Of course."

He stood to leave, and I suddenly remembered the strange weapons I had found in the troll hoard. "My lord," I said, standing quickly and immediately wishing I had not. "I found several weapons in a troll hoard, could you identify them for me?"

"I already have," he said, turning back to me. "I do not know how they came to be in your possession, but your should hold onto them carefully. The arrows are woven wish an ancient magic; they will rarely miss their target if the heart wielding them is true. The knives are unlike any others I have seen, but from what I have found, they seem to be the weapons of Turgon, the ancient Elven king of the Noldor."

I nearly fell over in shock. How had these blades come to me?

"They have been lost for many an age; I know not how you came by them. However, it seems that his weapons desire to be found, as the sword Glamdring, which also belonged to him, was found by Mithrandir in the same cave where these weapons were found."

I nodded mutely, and the elf lord stood.

"I will find you when it is time to meet," he said, departing.

Gandalf, Elrond, and I walked up a flight of stairs and into a pavilion. I had by now changed, and had given my weapons to an overjoyed Fili, who agreed to hold onto them for me until I joined them again. I could not find Kili.

Gandalf was speaking urgently to Elrond. "With or without our help—" 'Our' referring to the White Council, "—these dwarves will march on the mountain. They are determined to reclaim their homeland. I do not believe Thorin Oakenshield feels that he's answerable to anyone. Nor for that matter am I or the princess."

Elrond turned to Gandalf. "It is not me you must answer to."

I looked and saw a tall, beautiful, female Elf standing framed against the moonlight. She slowly turned around. "Lady Galadriel," Gandalf said, awestruck.

"Mithrandir," She said, smiling. "It has been a long time."

"_Age may have changed me," _Gandalf said in Elvish, _"but not so the Lady of Lorien_." Galadriel smiled. "I had no idea Lord Elrond had sent for you."

A voice sounded out of the darkness; a voice which made my skin crawl. "He didn't. I did." I turned to see Saruman the White.

Gandalf bowed to him; I did not move. "Saruman," Gandalf said.

"You've been busy of late, my friend," The wizard's smile did not reach his eyes, which remained cold and calculation, like a serpent's.

The White Council, which composed of Saruman, Elrond, Galadriel, Gandalf, and, momentarily, me, was in the pavilion. Gandalf, Saruman, and I sat at a table; Elrond and Galadriel stood or walked about. Dawn was slowly breaking.

"Tell me, Gandalf, did you think these plans and schemes of yours would go unnoticed?" Saruman asked venomously. I narrowed my eyes at the White Wizard.

"Unnoticed? No, I'm simply doing what I feel to be right," Gandalf replied.

"The dragon has long been on your mind," Galadriel said, reading his mind.

"This is true, my lady," Gandalf relented, turning to her. "Smaug owes allegiance to no one. But if he should side with the enemy, a dragon could be used to terrible effect."

Saruman scoffed, and I felt my dislike for the man growing stronger. "What enemy? Gandalf, the enemy is defeated. Sauron is vanquished. He can never regain his full strength."

Elrond agreed, turning to the wizards. "Gandalf, for four hundred years, we have lived in peace. A hard-won, watchful peace."

Gandalf leaned forward. "Are we? Are we at peace? Trolls have come down from the mountains. They are raiding villages, destroying farms. Orcs have attacked us on the road."

Elrond spread his arms, exasperated. "Hardly a prelude to war."

Saruman took the floor again. "Always you must meddle, looking for trouble where none exists."

Galadriel turned sharply. "Let him speak."

"There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug. Something far more powerful. We can remain blind, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you. A sickness lies over the Greenwood. The woodsmen living there now call it 'Mirkwood'. They say…" Gandalf trailed off, unsure. I stood and walked to the edge of the pavilion.  
Saruman interrupted, mocking him. "Well, don't stop now. Tell us about the woodsmen's sayings."

I turned around and faced the wizard myself. "They speak of a Necromancer living in Dol Guldur, a sorcerer who can summon the dead."

Saruman did not mention that I had spoken out of turn, but reprimanded me instead. "That's absurd. No such power exists in the world. This… Necromancer is nothing more than a mortal man. A conjurer dabbling in black magic."

Gandalf continued. "And so I thought too. But, Radagast has—"

Saruman turned on the Grey Wizard in disgust. "Radagast? Do not speak to me about Radagast the Brown. He is a foolish fellow."

Gandalf smiled. "Well, he's odd, I grant you. He lives a solitary life."

Saruman waved Gandalf's comment away. "It's not that. It's his excessive consumption of mushrooms. They've addled his brains and yellowed his teeth. I warned him, it is unbecoming of the Istari to be wandering the woods…"

I rolled my eyes, ignoring Saruman's glare, and looked to Gandalf, who lifted the package from Radagast, which he had in his lap, and placed it on the table. It let out a dull thud.

The others drew closer to it; I backed away. "What is that?" Elrond asked.

Galadriel glared at it. "A relic of Mordor."

Elrond, who was reaching out to unwrap the package, drew his hand back. He then reached for it again and opened it, revealing the short sword Radagast had taken from the spirit in Dol Guldur. The White Council members looked upon it in shock.

"A Morgul blade," Elrond said, unable to take his eyes from it.

Galadriel spoke, her lovely voice filled with horror. "Made for the Witch-King of Angmar, and buried with him. When Angmar fell, men of the North took his body and all that he possessed and sealed in the High-Fells of Rhudaur. Deep within the rock they buried them, in a tomb so dark it would never come to light."

Elrond shook his head. "This is not possible. A powerful spells lies upon those tombs; they cannot be opened."

Saruman turned to Gandalf. "What proof do we have this weapon came from Angmar's grave?"

Gandalf looked down. "I have none."

Saruman stood up straighter, haughty. "Because there is none. Let us examine what we know. A single Orc pack has dared to cross the Bruinen. A dagger from a bygone age has been found. And a human sorcerer, who calls himself the Necromancer, has taken up residence in the ruined fortress. Not so very much, after all. The question of this dwarvish company, however, troubles me deeply. I'm not convinced, Gandalf; I do not feel I can condone such a quest. If they'd come to me, I might have spared them..." Saruman's voice faded away as Galadriel again focused on myself and Gandalf. She spoke to us both telepathically.

_"They are leaving."_

_ "Yes,"_ the wizard answered.

A smile traced its way onto her face. _"You knew." _

Gandalf nodded, and I smirked. Galadriel smiled slightly.

A step was heard, and we all turned around; Lindir came up and bowed. "My Lord Elrond; the dwarves, they're gone."

Galadriel focused on me. _"Go. Join them; Mithrandir will come soon."_

I bowed my head. _"Yes, my Lady."_ I turned and left the pavilion, headed for the Company, who were headed straight for the Misty Mountains.


	13. Chapter 13

By the time I caught up to them, it was midmorning, and the dwarves were hiking along the path away from Rivendell. Thorin was shouting out orders to the dwarves behind him. "Be on your guard; we're about to step over the edge of the Wild. Balin, you know these paths; lead on."

Bilbo turned around and looked back at Rivendell longingly, and he smiled in delight upon catching sight of me. "Master Baggins, Lady Elf, I suggest that you both keep up." Several dwarves, including Kili, turned around in surprise when I was addressed, but only the brothers Fili and Kili fell back to speak to me.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Princess," Fili said, clapping my back and pulling me into a short embrace. "It's been quite lonely without your presence." Leaning towards me, he whispered, "And Kili hasn't been the same without you."

A glance in Kili's direction showed him to be bright red, and I blushed myself, smiling. "It has been quite dull without you both, _melloneamin_," I said, placing my hands on their shoulders. "I hope not to become separated from you in such a manner again."

-o-

For many a day we hiked towards and across the mountains, and still Gandalf had not reached us. I began to doubt whether he would come at all, but the Lady Galadriel was not one to break a promise, so I chose not to worry too much. Besides, we had a head start, so unless he were to make much better time than us, he would naturally be close behind.

When finally we began crossing the heart of the mountain range, I began doubting my health, seeing as how I had to stop and catch my breath every hour or so, and I greatly regretted having left Rivendell. The only good thing that had come since departing that City of Light was that the dwarves, most of them, anyway, had taken a liking to me since I had nearly died fighting a warg that had been trying to kill them.

"Are you alright, Princess?" Dwalin asked, offering me a hand up as we climbed over a precarious set of boulders that had fallen into our path. There was a light rain in the air, and the older dwarf's beard and bald head shone with the small water droplets. "You're moving slower than usual."

I did not find offense at his statement, having learned more about both he and his brother since joining the company. I accepted his help and pulled myself to the top of the rock pile with a grunt of pain. My hand went to my side, where not two weeks ago I had been torn open by the claws of a warg. "I'm fine," I lied, pressing my hand to my side. "Just tired."

-o-

Two days later, we still had not passed over the mountains, and the trek was becoming increasingly more dangerous. The path we travelled on was narrow and dangerous with a cliff on one side and a sheer drop on the other. There was a fierce storm in the air, with lightning and rain all around. The wind raged around us, and the brothers Fili and Kili were constantly checking over their shoulders to make sure I hadn't been blown away.

'Elves,' they had said, much to the other's amusement, 'are much too light to be travelling in such terrible weather. They are more likely to be blown away by the wind than to be killed in battle.'

Thorin, the only dwarf who had yet to welcome me into the group, was yelling words of semi-encouragement to the company as we were being pelted by sheets of rain. "Hold on!" As we walked, the stone beneath our feet began to crumble. Bilbo, who was several dwarves ahead of me, began falling into the chasm. Dwalin, upon hearing my cry over the wind, managed to pull him back in time. "We must find shelter!"

My keen ears picked up on a sound I had been hearing for a while but had dismissed as a crash of thunder. Chancing a glance upwards, I interrupted, staring up at the massive boulder hurtling towards us. "Watch out!" The dwarves looked up in time to see it hit the mountainside above us, causing rocks to fall all around as we pressed ourselves against the mountain.

Balin looked on in horror and awe. "This is no thunderstorm; it's a thunder battle! Look!" I looked up to see a stone giant rear up from a nearby mountain; it ripped off a massive boulder from the top of the mountain before roaring at another giant that was hidden from our sight.

Bofur looked excited, and he stepped forward to view them better. "Well bless me, the legends are true. Giants; Stone Giants!" As he spoke, another piece of the mountain was hurled in our direction.

Thorin was not at all enjoying the fact that these age-old creatures were, in fact, real. He and I both seemed to be the only ones with any sense. "Take cover you fool!" He yelled as the boulder smacked into the mountainside. I grabbed Bofur and yanked him back in time to prevent his death.

"Thanks," he yelled to me over the storm.

Kili turned to me. "What's happening?"

I ducked reflexively as the first giant threw the boulder far in the air; another stone giant appeared from behind us in time to receive the brunt of the boulder's impact right in the face. The dwarves yelled at each other to brace themselves and hold on, (as if they needed encouraging) and Kili grabbed my hand, pulling me closer to both him and the wall. The rocks beneath our feet began to give way from all the vibrations and from the impact of the falling rocks. The ground between the Company members suddenly split; part of the group was on one side, and my part on the other.

"Kili!" Fili yelled, reaching for his brother. Fili grabbed my arm, holding me back as I moved to jump to Kili's side.

"Kili!" I yelled. As the two stone giants fought with their fists, we all managed to hold on as we were flung around. My group managed to jump to a different spot out of the line of fire, but the other wasn't so lucky. A third stone giant appeared as the second went down, and it threw a boulder at the head of the one Kili and Bilbo were stranded on. The giant's head was broken from its shoulders, and the body fell in slow motion as we looked on in horror. Its knee, where the company was stranded, smashed into mountain, and I felt my heart stop as the rest of the giant fell into the chasm.

Thorin began screaming. "No! No! Kili!"

"Kili!" I screamed. Fili's grip on my arm stayed strong and prevented me from rushing on ahead and potentially falling into the chasm with the stone giant. We approached the bend in the rock around which I fully expected to see the splattered remains of the other nine members of our company. My heart hammered in my chest, and I felt relief as I rounded the bend: they were safe.

My heart beat much faster than it had before as both Fili and I rushed to hug the dark haired archer, who looked unbelievably relieved. "Thank _Seldarine_ you're safe," I said, embracing Kili. He hugged me back before embracing his brother, who looked overjoyed that his brother was safe.

I looked around as Bofur's panicked voice reached my ears. "Where's Bilbo? Where's the Hobbit?" he asked, looking around. Spotting him, he pointed, "There!"

Dwalin turned, "Get him!"

I leaned over to see Bilbo hanging onto the edge of the cliff by his fingertips. Ori dove onto the ground and tried to grab Bilbo's arm, but Bilbo slipped and fell another few feet before he caught another handhold. As the dwarves unsuccessfully tried to pull him up, Thorin swung down on the cliff next to Bilbo and boosted him up, where the others pulled him to safety.

I rushed to the edge where Thorin hung and where Dwalin was trying to lift him back to safety; Thorin, however, lost his grip and began falling too. I grabbed Thorin's free arm and he glared at me, making it clear that my assistance wasn't wanted. I glared back and pulled harder, and with Dwalin's help, was able to pull Thorin up. On the last tug, however, the rock beneath my left foot crumbled, and I fell, grabbing onto the ledge and yelling as my wound stretched taught. Fili and Kili, who had followed me, pulled me back up to solid ground where I sat for a moment, shaking and gathering my thoughts. I was terribly afraid of both heights and falling; I was not overly overjoyed at having experienced both in a matter of moments.

Once Thorin and I were safely on the ledge again, Dwalin turned to Bilbo in obvious relief. "I thought we'd lost both our burglar and our elfling," he said, winking at me to show he meant no harm.

Thorin stood and glared venomously at the obviously shaken-up hobbit and ignored me, turning away. "They've been lost ever since they left home. They should never have come. They have no place amongst us." I glared at the dwarf prince, angry that he would issue such a low blow, but looked down after a moment. He was right; I didn't belong here. I didn't belong anywhere. "Dwalin!" We began moving again, heading deeper into the mountains. Fili and Kili stood before and behind me, making sure I did not fall again.

-o-

After another hour of useless wandering, we eventually found a cave to rest in. Dwalin peered inside. "Looks safe enough," he said, clearly wanting to be out of the rain.

Thorin glanced inside. "Search to the back; caves in mountains are seldom unoccupied."

I rolled my eyes, wondering why he did not lead to the way and why he instead sent his family inside an unknown and potentially life-threatening place. I watched as Dwalin searched the cave with a lantern and glanced at Thorin in irritation when the older dwarf called, "There's nothing here."

We all crowded inside, relieved to be someplace dry. Gloin dropped a bundle of wood on the floor and rubbed his hands together. "Alright then! Let's get a fire started."

Thorin turned around quickly, quenching any hope we had of becoming dry. "No fires, not in this place. Get some sleep. We start at first light."

Balin turned to the prince. "We were to wait in the mountains until Gandalf joined us. That was the plan."

Thorin scowled. "Plans change. Bofur, take the first watch."

-o-

The Company rested in the cave; all the dwarves were asleep. I never slept. As an elf, I didn't need to, but even if I had a choice, I would choose to lie awake rather than to spend my nights locked in a nightmare.

A noise from nearby made me shift and look around. Bilbo, who evidently was only pretending to be asleep, stealthily opened his eyes and looked around. He obviously thought no one was watching, so he packed up his things and rolled up his blanket, attaching it to his pack. Grabbing his walking stick, he started to leave the cave, tiptoeing over the sleeping dwarves. I moved stealthily behind him, making no noise in the sand that covered the ground. My shoe bumped into something I could've sworn was made of metal, buried beneath the sand, but I was distracted by Bofur and Bilbo, who were speaking quietly next to the wall.

"Where do you think you're going?" The kind dwarf asked, startling the hobbit.

"Back to Rivendell," Bilbo said. I moved and stood beside Bofur. Honestly, going back to Imladris sounded wonderful to me.

"No, no, you can't turn back now, you're part of the Company. You're one of us," Bofur said, confused.

Bilbo looked around, clearly upset. "I'm not though, am I? Thorin said I should never have come, and he was right. I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins, I don't know what I was thinking. I should never have run out my door. Aeyera knows what I'm talking about; she's an elf; she doesn't belong on this venture anymore than I do."

I looked down, then back at Bilbo, taking the side of the dwarves I so desperately wanted to protect. "You're homesick; I understand."

"No no, you don't, you don't understand! None of you do—you're dwarves, and you're an exiled elf. You're all used to—to this life, to living on the road, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere!" I looked away, stung, and Bofur looked hurt and sad. Bilbo looked repentant and tried to take back what he had said. "I am sorry, I don't..."

Bofur looked around at his sleeping kin and placed a hand on my shoulder briefly. "No, you're right. We don't belong anywhere." He turned back to the hobbit and smiled warmly, his eyes sad. "I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do."

I moved forward and kissed the hobbit's forehead. "Safe travels, Master Baggins," I said softly.

"You're not going to convince me to stay?" he asked, looking up at me.

I shook my head. "No. You were right—I don't belong anywhere. But you belong in the Shire, that's where your home is, and where your heart is." I touched his chest, my hand resting over his heart.

"… And where is your heart, princess?" he asked.

I shook my head, feeling the burden of my years weighing heavily on my shoulders. "I don't know."

Bofur placed his hand on Bilbo's shoulder before the hobbit turned and began walking away. I frowned at the light being emitted from Bilbo's belt, but Bofur pointed it out first. "What's that?"

Bilbo slid the sword from its sheath, and I looked down to see my knives glowing the same as his blade. Looking up, I saw the sand falling through cracks appearing in the cave floor. Terror washed through me, and I had just enough time to make eye contact with Thorin, who had been awake this entire time, before we both began yelling, "Wake up. Wake up!"

We were too late. Before anyone could react, the floor of the cave collapsed downwards, revealing that the floor was really a giant trap door. The entire Company fell down a chute, the dwarves cursing and yelling. I spun around and around, hitting boulders and walls and getting pretty banged up as we slid through the tunnel. Finally we landed in a large wooden cage, which was suspended over a dark abyss.

As we struggled to get up, a horde of goblins attacked us and took away our weapons. Once we were all defenseless, they dragged us all away.

-o-

The goblin horde brought us through a vast network of tunnels and wooden bridges to the throne room and platform of the Great Goblin. The Great Goblin was a massive Goblin sitting on a throne, holding a mace topped with a skull. He was far larger than any other goblin I had faced, and he was incredibly ugly, with warts and blisters all over his swinging chin, which looked to be made of fat. The goblins piled our weapons into a stack on the floor, and the Great Goblin jumped off his throne, trampling several goblins situated near the base. He approached the Company, and I felt a sudden pressure on my hand. I looked down to see that Kili had taken it, and I squeezed back. I shouldn't have been so terrified, and if I were younger and more naïve I might not have been. However, I remembered the feel of whips and white-hot irons, and the memories made me feverish and scared.

The ugly goblin began speaking, his voice booming around the great cave. "Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?"

A goblin closest to us replied, "Dwarves, Your Malevolence."

"Dwarves?" The goblin repeated incredulously.

"We found them on the front porch," it said, "Along with one elf." Kili gripped my hand tighter, and the dwarves shuffled around so that I was in the center of the circle. Thorin glanced my way, taking in my grey, clammy skin and my terrified face. He frowned, confused.

The Great Goblin raised his arms. "Well, don't just stand there; search them! Every crack, every crevice."

The goblins searched us thoroughly, throwing away whatever they find. Kili and Fili pushed away any goblins that tried to do more than search me, but by the end I was even paler than before, and Kili now was supporting me; I felt I might collapse.

The Great Goblin spoke again, "What are you doing in these parts? Speak!" Not a one said a word. "Well then, if they will not talk, we'll make them squawk! Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker! Start with the elf." The Great Goblin pointed at me, and the dwarves closed ranks even more, protecting me as best they could. Their best efforts weren't enough. Two burly goblins that reeked of sewage dragged me forward and shoved me to my knees, each keeping a strong grip on my shoulders and wrists to keep me in place.

"Show me your face," the Great Goblin said. I didn't move, and another goblin came forward and forced my head up by grabbing a fistful of my hair and jerking my head back. The goblin frowned, his fat jiggling. "I know you." He suddenly laughed, and the other goblins took up his call, laughing and jeering. I wanted to look over my shoulder and see my friends, tell them I was okay, but I couldn't move. "Your majesty," he said mockingly. "It has been too long, my lady. It's been… what? One hundred and fifty years?" He turned to the audience gleefully. "May I introduce, her royal highness: the elf _Princess _of Mirkwood!" The goblin ranks went ballistic: screaming, laughing, threatening, spitting. One came up and struck me across the face, and I heard Kili shout my name. The Great Goblin staggered over to where I stood. "Don't worry, I'll save you for someone else. However, you don't have to be in one piece."

He had the goblins drag me over to some sort of strange contraption and take off my cloak and tunic, leaving me in my undershirt and pants. The goblins cast the clothing aside, but I saw Kili pick them up and stuff them in a pouch.

My arms were forced into small holes, and my neck was as well. Fear began consuming me, but I refused to show it. "Let us begin with lashes!" He said happily. I managed to raise my head and look over at the dwarves. Kili was fighting his brother and uncle, trying to reach me, but he stopped when his eyes met mine. I tried to tell him I was going to be alright, but a sudden pain like fire flared up from my back, and I yelled, straining against my wooden bonds. "Another!" He yelled. I tried to keep from making any noise, but it was in vain. The whip they used was embedded with glass, rock, and metal, and it tore through my skin as easily as a knife passes through a spider-web. I lost count after two, everything took on a red tint, and I felt feverish; I lived in a world of pain. The goblin spoke again, and I heard what sounded like, "Fetch the hot irons."

I wept, straining wildly against the wooden planks holding me in place. I could feel the heat nearing my exposed flesh, and right before it made contact, Thorin stepped forward. "Wait," he said.

The goblin laughed. "Well, well, well, look who it is. Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror; King under the Mountain." The Great Goblin bowed mockingly to Thorin. "Oh, but I'm forgetting, you don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you nobody, really." The goblin audience tittered as they watched.

"Release the elf," he said, standing tall.

The goblin signed to another who stood near me. I could barely stand; I sagged against the posts, unable to keep myself upright. He undid the wooden bonds, grabbed my hair, and threw me to the ground in front of Thorin. He stepped over me, moving so he stood protectively in front, and two other dwarves moved and picked me up, carrying be back to the group. I couldn't fall unconscious; it was nearly impossible, what with all the adrenaline pumping through me. I was literally forced to stay awake, and I listened to the terrible goblin as he spoke. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head," he said to Thorin. "Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours. A Pale Orc astride a White Warg," he snarled the rest, and then looked over at me. "He desires to have your blood as well, elfling," he leered. "You're not out of the fire yet."

Thorin and I both looked up in surprise and disbelief. I felt my blood run cold, and I began shaking even more than I had been before. _How could Azog the Defiler possibly be alive? _I too had thought him to be dead.

"Are you alright?" Kili asked. I shook my head, the rest of me frozen in shock. Thorin glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyes showing the shock that I felt. "Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago."

The Great Goblin leered at him. "So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" He laughed, and then turned to a tiny goblin sitting in a basket and holding a slate. "Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize." The tiny goblin wrote down the message on his slate; cackling, he then pulled a lever, causing his basket to start sliding down a system of ropes and pulleys into the darkness.

-o-

Minutes later, dozens of goblins carried massive instruments of torture on their shoulders, bringing them to the Great Goblin. Meanwhile, the Great Goblin was dancing and singing lustily. "Bones will be shattered, necks will be rung! You'll be beaten and battered, from racks you'll be hung. You will lie down here and never be found, down in the deep of Goblin Town."

One of the goblins was examining the weapons the dwarves brought with them. He picked up Thorin's sword, Orcrist, and slid it a few inches out of its sheath. Recognizing the sword, he gasped in horror and threw it down, shrieking. It landed in view of all the goblins. Recognizing it, the goblins howled in fear and rage as they retreated from it; the Great Goblin ran rapidly to his throne, trampling many goblins on his way. He spoke loudly, pointing at the sword. "I know that sword! It is the Goblin-Cleaver, the Biter, the blade that sliced a thousand necks."

As he speaks, the rest of the Goblins began whipping the dwarves with ropes and leaping upon them, biting and slashing. Kili and Fili managed to protect me from the worst of it, but I still was injured worse. The head goblin goaded them on. "Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all! Cut off their heads!"

Goblins snatched me from Kili's grasp and held me down. One of them pulled out a knife, preparing to cut off my head.

Suddenly, there was a massive explosion of bright light; everything seemed muted as the shockwave of light exploded outwards, destroying the machines of torture. Everyone was knocked down, including the Great Goblin. When the force of the explosion had passed, most of the lights in the area had been snuffed out; I looked over to see that in the background, a shadow with a tall pointy hat was walking up. It was Gandalf, holding his staff and his sword, Glamdring. Light slowly returned to the area as the goblins and the dwarves slowly looked up, recovering from the shock. They all stared at Gandalf. "Take up arms. Fight. Fight!"

The dwarves quickly got up and began fighting the goblins. I myself forced myself to my feet and snatched up my weapons, slinging my quiver and bow onto my blood soaked back and slashing through blistered flesh with my knives. The Great Goblin, still lying on the ground, saw Gandalf's sword and pointed at it, crying aloud to his goblins, "He wields the Foe-Hammer, the Beater, bright as daylight!"

Some of the dwarves reached their pile of weapons and began tossing the weapons to each other; they used their weapons to defeat the goblins around them. Some goblin I fought managed to knock me off balance, and I fell to the floor, crying out as my head smacked against the platform. From behind me, I saw the Great Goblin running at me and swinging his mace, intent on ending me.

"Aeyera!" Someone screamed. Thorin jumped forward and deflected the Great Goblin's blow, causing the Great Goblin to stumble backward and stumble off the edge of his platform, falling to the depths below. Thorin hauled me to my feet and passed me to Oin and Ori, who helped me limp along, though I still managed to kill my fair share of goblin filth. The rest of the dwarves and Gandalf continued to fight as we made our way off the main platform.

Gandalf turned quickly. "Follow me. Quick! Run!" Cutting down the goblins around them, the company ran along a pathway leading away from the throne room. I leaned heavily on Oin, who kept his arm around me and led me away from danger. Kili looked back, meeting my gaze, concern written on his face. I smiled weakly at him, and he smiled grimly back, turning away. As soon as he turned, I sagged against my escort, who tightened his grip and all but carried me to safety.


	14. Chapter 14

Gandalf, the dwarves, and I ran through the suspended passageways of Goblin Town with hundreds of goblins chasing after us. The dwarves fought ferociously, and not for the first time was I grateful that we were on the same side. Kili and Fili, who were several dwarves ahead of me, fought with unbridled fury that I can only describe as the same protectiveness a mother bear has for her cubs.

As I limped along, the dwarves shot me glances of concern and guilt, but it was hard for me to see clearly; everything went in and out of focus. I could barely stand I was so dizzy, and thick, hot blood ran down my back and arms. I continued to fight, however, and my aim was unfazed by the wounds, though pain continued to race through my body.

Gandalf looked behind him, urging us on. He didn't look in my direction, but even so I felt the Istari's attention focused almost solely on me. "Quickly!" He yelled, swinging Glamdring and taking off a goblin's ugly head. I snatched a throwing knife from a fallen orc and sent it spinning through the air and into the yellow eye of one that had been about to murder Thorin; his face morphed into that of surprise when he turned and faced the goblin that would have killed him. I saw him take in the knife—which only he or I could have thrown with such deadly accuracy—and the position the orc was in, and he glanced at me appraisingly before continuing on.

I looked up to see a large group of goblins headed towards Dwalin, and I cried out to the old warrior, who immediately cut a guardrail from the path and held it out in front of him like a massive spear. Several other dwarves joined him. "Charge!" He bellowed, barreling towards the orcs. He and the other dwarves ran at the oncoming goblins and swept them away with the long rail, making them fall over the edge and into the chasm. They repeated the action several times until the path was clear, and I swung my knives, slitting the throat of one goblin and beheading another in a single motion. Rage burned through me, and I could feel my anger fueling my actions even as life drained from my body. I glanced over to see that Dwalin had dropped the post and had unsheathed his axes, beginning the tedious task of thinning out the goblin ranks. The rest of the company did the same.

I sheathed my knives into their places on my back and screamed in pain as my exposed muscles strained at the movement. I felt blood spurt out of the wounds as I ripped my bow from the quiver and swung it at the head of a charging goblin. The force of the blow knocked it off the pathway, and it landed on another path farther down, which broke and dropped all the goblins on it into the darkness below. The rest of the Company also battled the goblins around them with their various weapons and fighting styles.

My eyes widened at the sight of several goblins snarling as they swung on ropes toward us. Dori, who was the dwarf now tasked to defending me, kept a strong hold on my arm, pulling me along in the hopes of getting away from the oncoming hoard without further injury.

Thorin's controlled voice reached my ears, "Cut the ropes!"

He and some of the dwarves cut the cords holding a raised platform in place; the platform fell outward, entangling the goblins swinging towards us and causing them to be bound to the platform before falling into the chasm and disappearing into the darkness. Kili, who had been using a ladder as a battering ram, laid it down as a bridge for us to cross to firmer ground. As soon I was across, Dwalin broke the ladder with his axe, preventing the goblins chasing us from crossing it. We continued moving and I stumbled, nearly pitching forward into the darkness.

Dwalin grabbed my shoulder, pulling me out of danger and onto the path. "Come on, princess," he said gruffly. "We need to go!"

"Quickly!" Gandalf yelled, urging us on.

We continued running through the maze-like paths fighting for our lives, and eventually we made it to a section of the path suspended by ropes from above with nothing below for hundreds of yards. The dwarves cut through the rope supporting it and the pathway swung away from the rest of the path, approaching a different one on the other side of the ravine. The dwarf king grabbed my arm and threw me onto the other platform while yelling, "Jump!"

Several of the dwarves, including Fili, Kili, and Dwalin, managed to jump to the other path where I stood; however, before the rest could, the suspended path swung back like a pendulum to where it started, and several goblins leaped onto the platform and engaged the dwarves again. Fili, Kili, and I stood back-to-back and fought together, though my vision was fading. A goblin slammed the butt of his spear into my temple before pulling out a dagger. I gasped and fell to my knees, clutching my head, but as I watched, the orc about to end me fell to the ground, Fili's knife in his throat.

Kili knelt down and dragged me to my feet as the rest of the company managed to jump to the new path. We cut the ropes immediately, causing the swinging path and the goblins on it to fall. No matter how many goblins we cut down, however, there were hundreds more to take their places.

We continued continued running through the tunnels, killing all the goblins in our way. Kili and Fili both supported me, their arms wrapped around my waist and my arms around their shoulders; I could barely stand on my own. Gandalf struck a rock above us with his staff, causing the large boulder to fall down and begin rolling in front of the Company, squashing all the goblins in our way.

Soon we approached a bridge between two walls of the cavern. As we tried to cross it, the Great Goblin suddenly broke through from underneath the bridge and pulled himself up onto the wooden planks in front of the Company.

"Don't you people ever die?" I yelled, immensely aggravated. Kili cracked a small smile, but it quickly disappeared when he turned his attention back to the matter at hand. As the Company paused, hundreds of goblins approached us from all sides, albeit wary of us now that several score had been killed.

"You thought you could escape me?" The Great Goblin swung his mace twice at Gandalf, causing him to stumble back and almost fall. The dwarves caught him and pushed him upright again. "What are you going to do now, wizard?"

Snarling, Gandalf leaped forward and struck the Great Goblin in the eye with the pointy tip of his staff. The Great Goblin dropped his mace and clutched at his face in pain, hands scrabbling at his eye, "Ow, ow, ow!" He wailed. Gandalf stepped forward and sliced the Great Goblin's midsection, and he fell to his knees, looking down at the fatty intestines threatening to spill out of him. The Great Goblin looked up, bemused, and glanced around at all of us. "That'll do it."

Gandalf once again swung his sword and sliced the Great Goblin's neck, causing him to fall down dead with a squelch. However, the weight of the goblin falling against the platform caused the bridge to shake; suddenly, the section of the bridge on which the company was standing broke away from the rest of the bridge and started sliding down the side of the cavern. The bridge slid at a terrific speed down the cavern's wall, demolishing everything in its way; the dwarves clung on, yelling in terror. Kili held me close to him, doing his best to protect me.

Finally the bridge slowed down and landed, hard, at the base of the cavern, breaking apart and burying the dwarves in splintered wood. Gandalf got up from the pile of wreckage and inspected the rest of the dwarves, who were still stuck in the rubble, while pulling me up and supporting me as I stood with shaking legs. He let go and surveyed the others, not noticing the blood on his hands.

Bofur smiled and looked around, trying to get a beam off his legs, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, that could have been worse."

Suddenly, the heavy corpse of the Great Goblin landed on the wreckage, squashing the dwarves further. "You've got to be joking," Dwalin growled as he pulled his legs out from under the platform. The others cried out in pain and I winced before going and helping Thorin and Gloin to free themselves; the others had for the most part dug themselves out. On a whim, I looked up and saw thousands of goblins running at us, climbing down the walls and shrieking with bloodlust.

Kili, apparently, had done the same. "Gandalf!" He yelled warningly, gripping his brother's hand as Fili yanked him out from under the splintered timber. Once on his feet, he rushed over and grabbed my wrist, tugging me along behind him.

"There's too many! We can't fight them," Dwalin said, helping Balin to his feet.

Gandalf turned to us. "Only one thing will save us: daylight! Come on! Here, on your feet!" The dwarves got up quickly, helping each other out of the rubble, and we ran away, following Gandalf. Kili, knowing that I was on the verge of unconsciousness, picked me up so that I was slung over his shoulders. He ran, his breathing labored, murmuring things under his breath that I couldn't hear.

-o-

"Aeyera, look!" Kili said, desperately trying to keep me awake, "It's the exit! We're almost out." I opened my eyes and saw the late afternoon sunlight streaming into the cave, and I nearly wept. Kili continued murmuring encouraging things to me as we exited the cave and ran down the steep, tree-covered slope. The fresh mountain air was in stark contrast to the pungent, stinking hole we had just climbed out of, and I felt rejuvenated—to a degree—though I still was on the verge of unconsciousness. The run jostled the gaping wounds in my back, and I bit my lip so hard to keep from crying out that I drew blood.

After nearly twenty minutes, Gandalf paused to count how many dwarves were with him as we stopped to collect our breath. Kili set me down and passed me my cloak and tunic, which he had to help me into, given that I couldn't raise my arms over my head. I absently listened to Gandalf as he tied the back of my tunic, and I counted in my head as well, trying to concentrate on something other than the nagging pain that encased my entire being. "Five, six, seven, eight... Bifur, Bofur... that's ten... Fili, Kili... that's twelve... and Bombur—that makes thirteen. Princess Aeyera… that's fourteen. Where's Bilbo? Where is our Hobbit?" He asked, glancing around. Several of the company jumped to their feet, alarmed. "WHERE IS OUR HOBBIT?"

"Curse the halfling! Now he's lost?!" Dwalin growled.

Gloin looked around, "I thought he was with Dori!"

Dori became defensive, "Don't blame me!"

The angry wizard looked around and captured the grey-bearded dwarf in his piercing gaze. "But where did you last see him?"

Nori looked guilty and piped up, shrinking away from the fuming sorcerer. "I think I saw him slip away, when they first collared us."

Gandalf turned on him, "What happened exactly? Tell me!"

Thorin stepped up as Kili helped me to my feet. "I'll tell you what happened... Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it! He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door! We will not be seeing our Hobbit again. He is long gone."

I moved forward, anger fueling my steps. "Do not speak of him like that," I said angrily. I shook where I stood, and nearly all of my weight was on Kili's shoulders. His arms were around my waist and my arms were slung over his shoulders in an effort to keep me from collapsing. My voice, however, did not waver. _I've had it up to here with this dwarf's arrogance_. "He took up this quest though it was not his burden to bear, and you have done nothing but put him down since the moment he joined us. You have no right—"

"I have every right," he bellowed, stepping forward till we were nearly touching. "This is my quest, not his. Neither is it yours, _princess_," he added venomously. "Go back to your wooded halls." He turned back to the rest of the company. "As I said before, our Hobbit is long gone. You, elfling," he added, looking venomously at me over his shoulder, "would be wise to join him; he is halfway back to Rivendell by now."

The dwarves looked at each other, unsure of how to react. Kili pulled me gently away and moved me out of the way so I could rest for a bit. My hands gripped his arms and tunic in a vice-like grip, and I held my breath as he eased me to the ground.

"No, he isn't."

I looked up in shock and relief to see Bilbo stepping out from behind a tree. Looking around, I saw that many of the dwarves' expressions mirrored my own. Gandalf laughed as he spoke. "Bilbo Baggins! I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life!" Bilbo strode forward into the group; he patted Balin affectionately on the shoulder and winked over at me, not noticing the blood on my face and hands.

Kili grinned from ear to ear; an identical grin rested on his brother's face as the two of them looked up from where they were crouched next to me on the ground. "Bilbo! We'd given you up!"

"How on earth did you get past the Goblins?!" Fili added.

Dwalin smiled affectionately and stepped up, wonder in his voice. "How, indeed."

I tilted my head a bit as I gazed at Bilbo, who appeared to be thinking of what to say. An awkward silence descended on the group, and Fili joined his brother at my side with a medicine pouch from Oin's bag. Bilbo continued searching for something to say, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

Fili quickly mixed some of the powder in my water skin and made me drink it; I gagged at its bitter taste, but relaxed as instantly a warm feeling settled over me and the fog cleared from my mind. I sat up and managed to climb to my feet: the pain, for the moment, was gone.

Bilbo gave a nervous laugh and put his hands on his hips, slipping something into the pocket of his waistcoat, which was missing its buttons. I glanced at Gandalf, who looked a bit perturbed, and I wondered if he had caught the glimmer of gold that had slipped into the hobbit's pocket.

"Well, what does it matter? He's back!" Gandalf said lightly.

Thorin frowned menacingly and stepped forward, looking at the hobbit as though he were a puzzle he wasn't sure how to solve. "It matters! I want to know—why did you come back?"

Bilbo looked at the dwarf sadly, a small smile on his face. "Look, I know you doubt me, I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my armchair. And my garden. See, that's where I belong. That's home. And that's why I came back, cause you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can." I smiled proudly at the halfling as silence reigned over the company, each dwarf thinking about what Bilbo said. Bilbo suddenly frowned, catching sight of my hands, which were bright crimson. "Aeyera, what's on your hands?" The dwarves turned to me, and the ones I had befriended looked alarmed; even the ones who had thus far given me the cold shoulder seemed at least mildly concerned.

"I-I just…" I stammered, shrinking back somewhat as Thorin's expression turned murderous. "They… they beat me, in the tunnels, it… it's nothing, just…"

"How did this happen?" Gandalf demanded. "Did no one watch over her?" He yelled, looking pointedly at Thorin as he spoke.

"There was nothing they could've done, Mithrandir," I said softly, wincing as the wizard poked my back to evaluate the full extent of the damage. At the same time, though, I felt a bubbling anger at Thorin for not stepping forward earlier; if he had, I wouldn't have been flogged.

"That is a lie, and you know it, elfling," he said, glaring at Thorin. "But we will discuss that at a later time. We need to get these wounds inspected." He moved my cloak over, and I heard his intake of breath as he looked at the back of my tunic; I guessed the blood had by then seeped through the thick cloth.

"The light is fading," the dwarf king pointed out without sparing me a glance. "We are too close to the goblin tunnels; sunlight is our only protection, and it is fast disappearing."

"It is your own fault she is wounded," The wizard shot back. "However, he is right, princess," the wizard said, pulling me to my feet. "Don't worry; we'll find help soon enough." As the company began moving again, he spoke quietly in my ear. "Just in case I become separated from the company, Aeyera," he whispered, eyeing the dwarves, "I leave it to you to protect the line of Durin."

I looked up at him in surprise as the dwarves shuffled by, headed down the mountain, startled by the sudden gravity of his request. "What?"

"I meant to ask this of you when first this venture began, but because of certain unforeseen circumstances, I was unable to do so. I ask this of you now, although you have done a marvelous job of it already: will you protect the line of Durin with your life, should it come down to it?" I stayed silent, considering the gravity of his request and knowing that the wizard already knew that I would have done this anyway; that I had earned the stripes on my back by protecting them. I knew how that goblin worked: he could sniff out the youngest and torture them for days on end until finally he killed them, making the others watch helplessly as he did so. In this case, the youngest were Fili and Kili, Kili being the younger of the two brothers. I wouldn't allow them to face torment and death: if I had wanted to stay hidden, the thick-skulled orc filth wouldn't have found me. I let them find me so they would be distracted from the dwarves: I had already saved them before; I knew in my heart I would do it again in a heartbeat. "You told me once that you did not have a purpose," he said softly. "Tell me: why are you still here? Why haven't you left?"

"I suppose because I want to help them," I answered, weaving around a large birch in my path. "I know what it's like to lose a home; a family."

"Is that all?" he asked, looking over at the setting sun as we jogged behind the group. His eyes twinkled with eons of knowledge, and I knew he knew my answer. "Sympathy?"

"No. No one should lose a brother," I said, thinking back to the last time I saw my own brother, thinking back over more years than I cared to count. "I will not allow Fili or Kili to feel that pain. Nor will I allow their mother to deal with the pain of losing another brother or a son; she already has lost her youngest brother and husband."

He nodded solemnly. "I understand," he said. I nodded, ready and willing to accept this responsibility, however abrupt the request may be. "Aeyera Greenleaf: do you swear to protect the line of Durin, to the best of your abilities, until they release you from your duties?"

"They will not know," I corrected softly, grunting as I jumped over a fallen log. "But I will protect them until the end."


	15. Chapter 15

We ran for another hour as the shadows lengthened around us and the pain slowly began to return. However, I refused to slow the company down and therefore did not bother stopping to drink any more medicine, though I knew I would regret it later. I ignored the nagging feeling in my heart and continued to push forward, thinking instead of those I needed to protect: of Kili and his love for his bother, of Fili and his fierce protectiveness over his kin, and of Thorin, who was fiercely loyal to his family and had already lost his father, grandfather, and brothers. _I refuse to let it him lose another loved one. _

The howls of wargs floated down the mountain to us as they had for the past half hour, but it still came as a shock when the first Warg caught up to the group and leaped at Bilbo, who nimbly jumped behind a rock as the Warg's jaws snapped shut on empty air above his head. I skidded to a stop as the Warg landed in front of him and charged him, growling.

I drew my bow and set an arrow on the string, aiming for the wolf charging the hobbit, but instead sent it speeding into the heart of an orc about to impale Fili on the end of its spear. It froze and toppled over, tripping another that was quickly ended my Dwalin's axes. Fili nodded at me, thankful and surprised, and they continued on as I looked over at the hobbit, fearing the worst. I was pleasantly surprised to see that he had skewered the massive beast on his sword and was now standing, shocked, in front of its corpse. Another orc snuck behind him, and with hands that moved faster than sight I sent an arrow into its chest and another in between its eyes before Bilbo even had a chance to turn around. With a nod, I turned and ran until I reached the edge of a cliff where the others stood, panicking. I gripped my bow, scanning the landscape for some way of escape. _The only means of escape are heading back the way we came or leaping off the overhang, neither of which we would survive for very long. _

I growled in frustration and looked at Gandalf for answers. "Up into the trees, all of you! Come on, climb! Bilbo, climb!" He yelled, maneuvering up into its branches. I turned just as Bifur threw his axe, killing a Warg, which had been about to take my head off. I looked over at him in surprise, nodding my thanks, and sent an arrow deftly into the chest of another that had strayed far too close for comfort.

I jumped out of the way as Bofur jumped off a rock and grabbed a tree branch, using Dwalin's head as a stepping-stone to the tree. Other dwarves began climbing into the trees as well. I boosted Fili and Kili up; Thorin was in Gandalf's tree, which was nearest to the cliff's edge.

The king yelled, "They're coming!" As Kili grabbed my arm and pulled me forcibly up into his tree as he and his brother climbed to the top.

"We're not leaving you behind," he said seriously, gripping my hand. I nodded and yelped as Fili clapped his hand on my shoulder, where a large gash lay from my flogging. Kili's eyes widened at something behind me, and I turned my head to see what had startled him: Fili's hand was scarlet with blood from touching my shoulder.

I turned to Kili. "I'm fine," I said distractedly, reaching for an arrow. I winced and brought my arm back, unable to reach back because of the pain. "Fine," I repeated, watching the main body of Wargs and Warg Riders approach. I looked down as Bilbo hauled himself into our tree right as dozens of Wargs reached the trees in which the Company members were perched. They leaped at the trees, clawing at the bark and snarling at those at their peaks, but they ceased after several minutes, and I turned around to see why. Fili and Kili grabbed my arms as I nearly fell off my perch in shock.

The Wargs had ceased their growling because their leader had come: the White Warg, with Azog on its back, was approaching slowly, and the latter was leering at the dwarf king and I.

"Azog?!" I whispered. Kili's grip on my arm tightened.

The warg growled, and the pale orc stroked its fur with his metal "arm," whispering in black-speech, which I had trained myself to understand. It raised its voice, sneering. "Nuzdigid? Nuzdi gast? Ganzilig-i unarug obod nauzdanish, Torin undag Train-ob." _Do you smell it? The scent of fear? I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thrain_. My mouth opened in grief for the king as I realized the pain the king must be in, knowing that Azog had captured his father. The orc turned his dark gaze to me. "Agh lat, karanzol. Brusnar nariinizg lat, ziimarpizg darûkûrz: durlob Aeyera." _And you, elfling. I have not forgotten you, you weak coward: Princess Aeyera. _I shrunk back, terrified, as memories of torture invaded my mind. Kili squeezed my hand, trying to bring me back to myself, but I was focused solely on the orc, who was speaking to his Wargs and Riders. "Kod, Toragid biriz. Worori-da!" _Those two are mine. Kill the others!_

At his command, the Wargs leaped forward and tried to climb the trees, and I snapped out of whatever spell I had been under. _I will not go back. I would rather jump off this cliff than go back to Dol-Guldur. _Kili shook me, and I raised my hand weakly. "I'm alright," I mumbled, shaking my head in an attempt to clear it.

The Wargs jumped as high as they could, scrabbling at the tree trunks and breaking apart branches in their jaws in their effort to reach us, but thankfully, they were unable to find a foothold on the trees, which had been stripped bare of their bark. However, the trees shook violently at the assault, and we were struggling to hold on. "Sho gad adol!" _Drink their blood! _The pale orc yelled gleefully, watching us struggle to maintain our positions in the trees.

With the weight of the Wargs climbing it, the furthest tree from the edge of the cliff—which happened to be ours—was uprooted from the ground and began tilting wildly. As more Wargs grabbed onto it, the tree tipped over and landed on the next tree; we jumped from the falling tree to the next. I leaped into the tree, clutching at the pine needles and thanking Tauriel over and over for letting me sneak out and tree hop when I was small: if not for the practice, I would surely have fallen to the ground whether from a bad grip or dizziness from loss of blood.

Just as we were settles, this tree as well tipped over; like dominoes, all the trees began falling onto each other, and with each jump, more and more of my strength left me. All the dwarves, Bilbo, Gandalf, and I managed to jump onto the last tree, on the very edge of the cliff. This tree—thankfully—didn't fall over.

Azog laughed.

Thorin grabbed my shoulder and pulled me backwards; I started: I had been inches from falling out of the tree. "Why does he want you?" he whispered. I opened my mouth to answer but was distracted by a fiery pinecone, which had been thrown from the top of the tree to the ground, where it landed on the Wargs, who retreated in fear of the fire. Gandalf lit several more pinecones and threw them down to the dwarves. "Fili!" Fili caught the pinecone and used it to light several others, which he passed down to the rest of the company. We gathered pinecones and Gandalf set them on fire; we then threw the flaming pinecones like missiles at the Wargs. All the area around the tree was set on fire, forcing the Wargs to retreat a distance, and at least one Warg galloped away with its fur alight, shrieking in pain. Miraculously, our own tree was not caught ablaze; that would have been terrible misfortunate. Azog roared in anger and frustration as the dwarves cheered.

I cried out suddenly, and the others' cheers turned to cries of terror as the roots of the tree we were in started to give way because of our combined weight; the tree tipped precariously over the edge of the cliff but came to a rest sticking straight out away from the edge of the cliff. I gripped my branch with both arms, gasping, my legs hanging out in the air with nothing to support them. I, though I had no problem with trees, was not overly fond of heights or falling, and my heart sped up till it thundered in my chest like a galloping horse.

I heard a commotion from far behind me but was in no position to look to see what the matter was; I managed to hook one leg around a branch and was working to pull myself up. I glanced over at Azog and saw him growl, his gaze flickering between Thorin and I. I glared at him in hate and anger, and if looks could kill, he would have been dead ten times over.

I heard a grunt and looked up as Thorin pulled himself up into a standing position, his sword drawn. He strode off the tree and began running towards the orc, oblivious to the obvious danger surrounding him. Yelling in pain, I hauled myself up and pushed myself onto my hands and knees; my promise burned in my mind as I began running after the king, ignoring the shouts behind me as I pulled my knives free.

Thorin ran through the burning ground at Azog and his White Warg, and Azog spread his arms wide with a smug grin on his face.

"Thorin!" I screamed as Thorin growled and ran with his sword up and his oaken branch shield held in front of him. Azog crouched, and then roared as his Warg leaped at Thorin. The king tried to swing his sword, but the Warg hit him in the chest with its forepaw, smashing him to the ground. I leaped over a burning tree, which kept the other wargs at bay.

As Thorin got back on his feet, panting, Azog and his White Warg wheeled around; they charged at Thorin again. Azog swung his mace and smashed Thorin in the face before Thorin could react.

"No!" I yelled, still running. I felt as though I was running through mud and water; it took so long to reach them. Thorin was brutally flung to the ground by the impact, and his breath left him. Azog roared in excitement. The White Warg clamped its jaws around Thorin and he yelled in pain. As the White Warg held Thorin in its mouth, I finally reached them, and I slashed its muzzle with my knife. Roaring, the White Warg threw Thorin several meters away onto a flat rock nearby, and his body slammed into mine, pinning me underneath. Thorin landed heavily, his sword falling out of his hand, and he was nearly unconscious by the time he hit the rock. I gasped, the dwarf was heavy, and I could hardly breathe. I pushed, and he barely moved; the very one I had to protect was inadvertently keeping me from protecting him.

From behind me I heard Azog say, "Biriz torag khobdudol." _Bring me their heads. _Summoning the last bit of my strength, I managed to get the majority of my body out from under Thorin, but my left leg was still pinned. I yelled and pulled at it in frustration, trying desperately to get the dwarf's armored body off mine, but he could barely move.

One of Azog's Warg Riders jumped off his Warg and approached Thorin and I, and I fought with waning strength to get free. Tears of anger and fear were forming, and I cried out, realizing that my ankle had likely been broken by Thorin's weight and force of my fall.

The orc approached Thorin and placed its sword against his neck. The dwarf gasped, trying in vain to reach his sword although he could barely move his arm. I slashed at the orc with my knife, but he parried and knocked the blade out of my hand before delivering a well-aimed kick to my jaw. My head snapped back and I fell, cracking my head on the stone. _Come on, get up! Protect him, come on!_ I raised myself onto my elbow as through blurred eyes I saw the orc raise the sword again, the rider prepared to decapitate Thorin, and then myself. As he swung his sword down, I threw myself over Thorin, eyes shut tight, waiting for a blow that did not come. I opened my eyes and lifted me head to see that Bilbo had thrown himself at the orc and had knocked him over him. The fight was short lived, and Bilbo managed to kill the orc, stabbing it multiple times. As Azog growled in anger, Thorin went unconscious, and I tried to rise, only to fall back onto him, nearing unconsciousness myself but determined to protect him till my dying breath.

Bilbo, much to my amazement, pulled his sword from the orc's corpse and ran to stand in front of Thorin and I, protecting us. He waved his sword wildly at Azog and the other Wargs. Azog looked down at him in distain and spoke in the common tongue, sounding disinterested. "Kill him."

A couple of Wargs and Riders approached Bilbo, snarling. I tried to move but was unsuccessful. Black and red spots danced in my vision, and my breathing became labored. I clenched my teeth, but could do nothing but watch. Suddenly, Fili, Kili, and Dwalin, who had managed to get off the tree, plowed into the Wargs from the side and started fighting them. In the confusion, Bilbo yelled and leaped forward, wounding a Warg. The White Warg hit Bilbo with his head and sent him flying, however. As the fighting around them continued, Azog and his White Warg approached Bilbo to kill him.

"No," I mumbled, pulling uselessly at my leg. "Bilbo…"

I turned my dying attention to the other and felt my heart sink at their position. Fili, Kili, and Dwalin had been surrounded by Wargs, and Bilbo was at Azog's mercy. I saw Kili lunge at a warg, which snapped at him, nearly catching his arm in its jaw but missing by a hair's breadth. "Kili!" I gasped, moving forward an inch. I grabbed my fallen knife—which lay feet away from me—and threw it, hard. Despite my weakness, the knife hit its target—the warg's eye—and the beast dropped. Kili turned in surprise, but the action had weakened me further, and I had fallen against his uncle's body, unable to move.

Suddenly, several more Eagles appeared in the air and joined the fray, much to my surprise. Some grabbed Wargs and Orcs and tossed them over the cliff. Others knocked down trees, which crushed the Wargs below them. Another Eagle fanned the flames with its wings, causing an inferno, which burned the Wargs and caused them to run away, yelping like puppies.

Azog snarled in frustration.

One Eagle gently grabbed Thorin and his sword in its talons and flew away, leaving me on the ground, unable to move. As Thorin was lifted off the ground, his oaken branch shield slipped off his arm and landed on the ground next to me. I reached out and grabbed it, clutching it close to my chest.

I heard Azog roar and I turned to see him jump back as an Eagle flew by him; the Eagle headed straight for me, and it picked me gently up, positioning its talons so that I would not fall. Another eagle right behind it had snatched up Bilbo and dropped him onto the back of another.

I blinked up at the eagle's underbelly as my vision became hazy and grey, and I hooked the shield to my arm right before my vision blacked out completely and I finally slipped into welcome darkness.

-o-

"Aeyera! Princess, wake up!"

I gasped for breath and my lungs filled with air as I coughed, expelling ash from my lungs. My memory remained blank for a moment as I blinked up at the wizard's relieved face above me, then all the horrifying events from before crashed down on me, and my eyes widened as the lashes on my back throbbed.

"Mithrandir," I groaned, struggling to sit up. Someone else held me down, and I looked over to see Kili's hands on my shoulders. A wave of relief fell on me; the last I had seen of him, a warg had nearly bitten off his arm. "Kili…" I whispered, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, "You're alright," I managed, embracing him tightly. "Thank _Seldarine _you're alright," I whispered, tightening my grip as his arms wrapped around my fragile body, holding me as if I were a bit of glass that might shatter if he dropped me. He had pulled me into a kind of sitting position, and my head was nestled between his neck and shoulder; I finally felt my age; I was young; if we were to convert to human years, I was probably much younger even than Kili—and I wanted nothing more than to stay right here and not move for the next century.

"You foolish elfling," he whispered into my hair, sounding both relieved and worried. "What were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"I-I couldn't let him die," I choked out, shaking. "I couldn't…"

"You saved me in the cave," he whispered. "You should have left me to take the lashing… you saved my uncle, you didn't need to, so why—?"

"Aeyera," Gandalf said, placing a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, moving my head away from Kili's comfortable shoulder, and gazed up at the wizard with teary eyes, one hand wrapped around the sleeve of Kili's tunic. My face warmed at the thought of the company seeing me like this, but in a glance I saw that most were looking elsewhere, giving me as much privacy as possible.

"Can you stand?" he asked, holding out his hand. I bit my lip, unsure, and took the wizard's hand. Kili held my elbows as Gandalf helped me to my feet, and I stood on my right foot, afraid to put any weight on my left. "What's wrong?" he asked, frowning. I closed my eyes and moving my weight to my left foot, putting it down, and I yelled through gritted teeth as I crumpled to the ground. Kili held my arms, preventing me from falling, and I felt a surge of gratitude mixed with something… different as his hand brushed against my cheek as he brought it back to push some hair out of his face. I decided not to focus on it as Gandalf felt my ankle through my light boot, muttering under his breath. "Not broken," he murmured. "Sprained, most likely."

Without another word he moved over to Thorin, who was lying, unmoving, on the ground. I felt a surge of guilt; if I had not fallen unconscious, Gandalf would have first helped Thorin; he was more important to the Company than I was.

"Thorin! Thorin." Thorin was not responding, and Bilbo ran up as I looked away, shame spreading through me. Gandalf placed his hand on Thorin's face and whispered a spell, and I looked back in wonder as Thorin's eyes fluttered open and he gasped for air. He spoke weakly. "The elfling? The halfling?"

Gandalf smiled. "It's alright. Aeyera and Bilbo are here. They're quiet safe."

By now, the other dwarves have all been landed on the Carrock, and they surround the wounded Thorin and I. Dwalin and Fili help Thorin up. However, once he's up, he shrugged them off and approached Bilbo, who stood in front of Kili and I, who were on the ground, the former crouched next to me. "You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed! Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild and that you had no place amongst us?"

Thorin advanced until he was face to face with Bilbo, and it was clear from his posture that he was both worried and frightened. I shrunk back myself, alarmed by his behavior. "I've never been so wrong in all my life!" Thorin grabbed Bilbo and embraced him deeply. The other dwarves cheered loudly and slapped each other on the back, and I smiled, though I still was very worried. Gandalf smiled. Bilbo, clearly surprised, hugged Thorin back. "I am sorry I doubted you."

"No, I would have doubted me too. I'm not a hero or a warrior... not even a burglar." As everyone chuckled, the Eagles flew away, screeching.

Thorin then looked beyond Bilbo to me and stepped forward, his face stern. He crouched down till we were face to face and he was on one knee. Then he did the last thing I expected: he bowed his head. "Princess," he said, and as he looked at me his face softened, his eyes sad and full of regret. "I owe you my life, and I would ask your forgiveness. I have known many elves, and you are the only one whom I would call friend. You have saved me life, and you have safe the lives of my kin. You and I share a common cause and a common enemy, and I am proud to draw swords with you. Or knives, since that is your weapon of choice," he added, smiling. He embraced me as well, and I hugged him back, gladness in my heart. "I am in your debt, princess of Mirkwood."

As I settled back against Kili, my right leg under me and my left before me, I gazed at the king before me, who had lived longer than I. "You are forgiven, my king," I said softly, bowing my head to him. "I thank you, but you are not in my debt, neither are your kin. I would strive to protect you because I could not do so beneath the mountain so long ago, I am able to now."

Thorin looked at me in a new way: with respect, and he said, his voice like that of a great king, "Then our debts are paid, neither you or I are indebted to each other any longer." His attention turned to the fact that I couldn't rise, and he frowned and turned to the company. "Oin, come heal her," he said. When he turned back, his gaze was fixated on a point behind me, and Kili and I turned to look.

Bilbo spoke up from beside me, "Is that, what I think it is?"

In the distance, on the horizon, I could see the outline of a single, solitary mountain, and for me, I saw the shadow of a great forest before it: my home. "Erebor—The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle-earth."

Thorin looked at it wistfully, his face longing. "Our home."

A bird cheeped and flew by, and Oin spoke up, "A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain."

Gandalf replied, a smile on his voice. "That, my dear Oin, is a thrush."

Thorin responded softly, "But we'll take it as a sign—a good omen."

Bilbo smiled. "You're right. I do believe the worst is behind us."

I sighed and leaned against Kili, hoping against hope that the hobbit was right, that the worst was behind us, and the company looked on at the Lonely Mountain as the sun rose over the mountain behind us, bathing us in golden light.

**End of Book 1**


	16. Chapter 16

I would love to thank all of you for reading this story! I've just published the second installment of the trilogy, "The Exile" but I'm not sure when it'll be up. I leave tomorrow at 5 A.M. for the beach all this week, then I'm home next weekend before I leave for 3 weeks. So… I _maybe _can update next weekend, and I hope I can, but in case I can't, I wrote the first chapter of this book over the past few days. It's 15 pages long and roughly 5.5k words, so I hope you enjoy it. My favorite thing is when I get a review: I love seeing what you think of my story! Bye!


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